"Hold the lift, please," called a voice from somewhere down the corridor, and instinctively, Dracule Mihawk held out one webbed hand to prevent the door from sliding closed. But as soon as he saw the man to whom the voice belonged, the Mon Calamari regretted his considerate gesture: Wyl Trykon was the last person with whom he wanted to share an elevator ride. When the human officer entered the lift car, with his cold, evaluating gaze and mirthless smile, Dracule subconsciously took a step backwards, and then stiffened awkwardly when he caught himself in the movement.

If Trykon noticed the reaction, he didn't let on. "Thanks, Drac," the human said amiably as the door quietly hissed shut.

Dracule muttered something that might have been, "You're welcome," and then turned to stare straight ahead, surreptitiously studying Trykon's reflection in the polished metal: the Kuati's features were as familiar as ever, but the man was a stranger. Trick - the nickname for a shy starfighter pilot Dracule had once befriended - was gone; in his place was a merciless, manipulative murderer who until very recently had been operating under a very different alias: Captain Grey, Chief of Naval Intelligence.

"I'm not a monster, Drac," Wyl said softly. "I'm still me." Dracule spared a glance back: human facial expressions were always difficult to fully understand, but Trykon's aspect in that moment was particularly hard to read: he looked... sad.

Before Dracule could come up with an appropriate response, the lift stopped, and the door slid open. Ruffled, he paced out into the corridor, the human's footsteps following close behind his own.

When they entered the conference room, they were greeted by Vice Admiral Stormz himself. "[Welcome, gentlebeings,]" the Wookiee growled. "[Please be seated.]"

Dracule only dropped his salute after the Naval Commander in Chief returned it, and as he stepped over to one of the seats arranged around conference table, he considered the Wookiee's tone: the Admiral seemed... eager, perhaps?

As he sat, the Mon Calamari exchanged nods with the other man in the room: Vice Admiral Vox, finally recovered after the terrorist attack a year before, had returned to duty, filling the Chief of Naval Operations position left open after the departure of Commodore Atrasin. It's good to see Den back on his feet, Dracule thought, but I wish things could have gone differently with G.

Thinking of the departed Atoran cyborg, Dracule was again reminded of the power struggle that had erupted between the Chief of Naval Operations and the Chief of Naval Intelligence... a conflict so disruptive that neither man still occupied the position he held before it. But while Atrasin had gone rogue, Grey had merely taken off his mask: revealing Trykon underneath. A new CNI had been named in his place, but he or she was absent from this meeting of the NHC... and Drac couldn't help but wonder how much influence Trykon still had over the Intelligence apparatus of the Vast Empire.

"[We have found those rrresponsible for the attack that left so many officers dead, and forced Denethorrr into such a long recoverrry,]" Stormz bellowed suddenly, and Drac's distracting thoughts were abruptly forgotten. He leaned forward slightly with restrained eagerness, and noticed a predatory gleam in the eyes of both the former-NCC-made-new-CNO and the former-CNI-made-new-CNT. Everyone in the room still held anger over that cowardly attack, and the consequences still playing out a year later. Revenge was at the forefront of their thoughts.

"[Captain Grrrey is still pursuing evidence,]" the Wookiee continued, "[but he has already proven to my satisfaction that Warrrlord Drakan and the Imperrrial Dominion are rrresponsible for poisoning our officers, and for our recent troubles with our neighbors. It seems the Dominion has been stealthily rrrebuilding their naval forces and intelligence assets ever since the Battle of Roku Tan. Naturally, we're their main tarrrget. VENI is still unsurrre of the details, but it appearrrs that their infiltrators have been manipulating the nearby Imperial Rrremnant and New Rrrepublic forces into the recent battles and skirmishes. Others infiltrated our own rrranks, and at least some of those perrrpetrated the attack on our officers. Though our intelligence and security forces were able to expose and eliminate many on the day, Grrrey regretfully admits that there is no way to know how many more moles may rrremain hidden throughout the Navy.]"

Drac's mind raced. "That's all very interesting, sir," he said, "but what do we plan to do about it? Publicly, there's still the peace treaty between ourselves and the Imperial Dominion. It may not go over well if we're perceived to be the ones breaking it."

Here, Admiral Vox jumped into the conversation: "It's not an issue. Captain Grey has managed to obtain information regarding their first open naval strike against us." There was no mistaking the gleeful tone in the Admiral's voice.

"Truly," Drac said cautiously. "Where do they plan to hit us?"

"[Herrre.]"

Drac's eyes widened and he subconsciously glanced at Trykon before turning back to the senior officers. "Sir? They're attacking Abrae?!"

"[Indeed. The idea seems to be that they'll crrripple our naval forces in one massive hammerrr blow. This will be preceded by a mass slicing attack on our communication and command-and-contrrrol systems; we've found grrroundwork code they've already sliced in to make their actual attack easierrr. Considering the current concentrrration of forces, if they can overcome us here, they might actually be able to dominate the VE in any extended campaign.]"

"The nerfherders have guts, all right," Denethor added. "Too much for their own good. They're gambling their entire campaign on this fight. If they can take us - if they can put the Atrus down - they'll roll over us. But if we smash their fleet here, their attacks stop cold." The human's eyes shone brightly. "Then it's our turn to attack."

"The operation against the New Republic was a greater success than we'd hoped," Trykon offered. "They shouldn't be a factor for this fight."

Dracule nodded. "Very well: no more shadow games and wars-by-proxy. We'll meet the Dominion here, at Abrae. I assume I'm authorized to use all our assets for this action?" He stared at Admiral Stormz.

"[Yes, Drrrac,]" the Wookiee replied, "[this is important enough to deploy the Interrrdictors. We will crush them, with the full might of the Vast Empire's Navy.]"

OOC:

1,055 words. Gentlebeings, this is it: the conclusion to a story arc that began over a year ago, with Into the Invisible. Please, read and contribute to the discussion thread as we play this one out.

After Action Report: The Naval High Command meets. NCC Vice Admiral Ph'rranix "StOrMz" Krazanr informs CNW Dracule "Drac" Mihawk that VENI has discovered the identity of the VE's true foe over the past year: the Imperial Dominion is back, and has been stirring up the recent trouble between the VE and the IR and NR. As the ID prepares to strike at the VEN's home base of Abrae, the CNW vows to prepare a trap that will turn the tables on the would-be conquerors. Also of note: Vice Admiral Kam "Denethor" Vox has recovered, and accepted the vacant CNO position, while Lieutenant Junior Grade Wyl "Trick" Trykon has revealed himself as the former CNI, after stepping down from that position.

A Modified Super Star Destroyer ship, known as the Atrus, slowly slipped through the interplanetary space of the system Vectra. Outside its thick, metal skin, TIE ships of various kinds floated around it, performing their routine patrols. A small, redish sun sat unmoving in the distance, allowing its gravity to shape and mold the orbital characteristics of the system, and in every other direction, a multitude of sparkling white dots sat as a jaw-dropping backdrop.

Aboard this 19 kilometer ship was a Damage Control Officer, one of the hand-full on board. Currently, he sat casually in his barracks with the rest of the Defense officers. His hair, dark red, was a disorganized mess that cast the look of someone that just woke up. Though, that was not the case. This man was Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran, and his messy hair told a lot about his personality.

Sitting comfortable in an arm chair, he flipped on the ship's entertainment console. A screen flickered to life, showing the scores for the latest G-Ball games. He scrolled through the list, and curse when he found out Tatooine had lost.

Owen "Flare" Robinson, a fellow damage control officer, sat down beside Echelon, reaching over for a handlefull of cheese puffs.

"How does Tatooine even have a G-Ball team?" he asked, though it was barely understandable due to the massive quanity of cheese puff in his mouth.

Echelon shrugged, and replied, "Eh, all those gamblers there like the sport enough to buy tickets. I could image it would be another thing to gamble on."

Owen grabbed the cheese puff bag, and offered it to Echelon. "Want some?"

"Nah. I already ate a few sandwhiches..."

"A few?"

"Yeah...I get hungry. It takes a lot of energy relaxing in the barracks." Owen waved him away, and returned back toward his cheese puffs. The G-Ball scores went down, and the daily Vectra news came on.

A human woman, with dark hair and make up came on the screen. She was behind a desk, and beside her sat an odd looking man. "Good day, Vectra residents, and welcome to the Daily Vectra News. I'm Trish Yoolat, and I'll be your anchor tongith," she began, in her "news anchor" accent. "We begin with a question a lot of people are asking: why are there more Vast Empire ships in the system than normal? We go to reporter Dan Craig with the report."

The scene flipped to a man infront of a viewport aboard a space station. Out it, you could see several military ships patrolling the area. "Thanks Trish," he said into his sleek, black microphone, "I'm here one of the Vast Empire's Abrae orbital facilities, and behind me, you can see some of its regular ships. A lot of people are wondering what is with the higher amount of ships in the system. Some military experts are speculating that there is an incoming attack, but when we asked Naval High Command, they simply told us that nothing was out of the ordinary. Here, you can see the normal traffic of ships compared to..."

Echelon's attention was lost when he realized the cheesy news anchor was right. There did seem to be more than the average amount of ships in the system. Perhaps there was an incoming attack. It all seemed logical.

"Hey Owen," he asked the cheesy-mouthed Owen, "the reporter does have a point."

"Nah. We're probably just gathering new ships and such," he replied.

"I don't know. It does seem a bit strange."

Owen grabbed another handfull of the cheese puff, and said, "Just leave it to High Command. They know what they're doing."

Now on duty, Echelon sat conforable in a chair in the Defense Room, a room for all of the Damage Control Officers, shield technicians, or other defense personnel. Though, during times of non-combat, they didn't do much except coordinate repairs and such. It was just like the barracks, minus the entertainment system and chees puff Owen. They mainly had to be there, just to have the personnel on hand. Just incase something went wrong.

"Ha! That's a good joke. I'll have to remember it," Owen said, snorting with laughter.

Something on Echelon's console beeped, and he said, "Hold on guys, I've got to take it."

He flipped a switch, and said into his headset, "Defense Staff. What do you need?"

"Well..." began a woman on the other line, "there is a small fire on deck 66b in the cafeteria."

Echelon sighed. One of the most common things they had to deal with were small fires. On a ship with a few hundred thousand people, fires were going to spring out.

The room was silent as everyone looked at each other. Echelon sighed again. "I guess that'll be me."

He grumpily got out of his chair and grabbed his datapad.

"Hey, that's the spirit Eche!" Owen said patting him on the back as he left. Echelon walked down the hall, entering the nearest turbolift. This was all in the day of the life of a Damage Control Officer. Though, he wasn't the slightest bit aware of the fires that were about to come.

OOC:

Worud Count: 892. A short post, mainly character development, about Echelon being suspicious of the activity in the system.

The room was dimly lit, empty except for the slow breathing of the single occupant. The moments around him were like this most days now. After his return people had avoided him like the plague, but in the air they knew he could be trusted. If they could find him, that was. Most of the time he was off doing something dangerous, and very foolhardy. Constant private meetings with those above him did little to change his ways, most though he was too lost to ever come back. This was a feeling he shared as well, in truth he did not want to come back.

Keeping his eyes closed he let the datapad play back the last few moments of the Fearless's life. It was not at Belgorath like it should of been, the final charge with all batteries firing. One lone charge at the enemy to see her friends and allies get away safe. No, this one was a slow death. A death caused by one thing, the very ship he was currently assigned to.

Her death came from not the Dreadnaught that was pounding the life out of her, that would of been fine. A suitable death for a ship like her. No, she was saved too late by the Atrus. The pride of the Naval fleet had arrived too late to save her, oh the Dreadnaught had been destroyed sure. The Fearless by then was lost, she died alone. Her systems too badly damaged to be repaired. No grand final charge at the enemy, no Captain to go down with her. She went into the cold darkness alone, and silent.

She had been his home, after so long a time he had found a place he could consider a home. The Fearless had become a part of him, he knew her every sound, every motion, every smell. For the first time in a long time he felt love again, he hoped her captain felt the same. He wondered if anyone else thought the way he did, thought that the Atrus should of been a few minutes slower in coming. Then their ship could of died in battle, maybe giving out one last roar as she was taken into the abyss.

The shrinks he had seen after he was removed as executive officer of Regents had told him it was not healthy to carry memories like these. At the time he had not known about the Fearless, the memories they spoke of were about his wife Eona, and how she had burned alive in the cockpit of a Porax-38 starfighter. He had been close enough to watch her burn, too far away to save her. She had died alone in the end, screaming as the flames took her. The Fearless had died alone, but went silently. Her salvos halted, her guns silenced. No screaming took her into the eternal world, she only quietly slipped away. Her parts stripped away, and sold as scrap.

If they had walked into the room they would know instantly he was not fit to fly, not really. The small blaster pistol sitting beside him on the cot would tell them all they needed to know. It had not gone into his mouth today, it had yesterday though. Eona had always stopped him, her soft green eyes looking at him quietly. She never said anything, only watched him. After a few seconds he would pull the gun out and drop it to the bed, then go back to starring at nothing.

That was why he had lied, bullied, and damn near threatened his way back into a squadron. He needed something to keep his mind active. Flying kept him breathing, he doubted he would trust again. There were those that considered themselves his friends, he was not sure if he considered them his. He would simply not allow himself to feel anything for anyone again. It hurt too much to lose them, even a ship hurt when she went away.

He hated this ship, being on it felt wrong to him. Her very odor nauseated him, her grand interior spoke of power, elegance, grace. To him she was something wrong, something that should have been destroyed when she was built. This monstrosity of engineering was what caused the Fearless to simply wink out.

Part of him thought about walking down to the engineering deck, using one of the maintenance passageways to begin a slow core overload. Do it in such a way that would allow everyone to evacuate, but only be found when it was too late to save the ship. He would stay behind, of course, go down with the Atrus. Like he should of gone down with the Fearless, like he should of burned instead of Eona.

They sedated you after you wigged out on them, most of them had evacuated her when it was known she was not going to make it. They left you behind, either out of oversight or on purpose. You made a choice then to stay behind with her, not let her go into the void alone. That moment was taken when this thing showed up, the salvage crew found you sometime later. The voice in his head said softly after a moment.

He remembered that choice, coming to terms with him dying with the Fearless. He welcomed the eternal embrace then, closed his eyes as the alarms continued to sound and those still alive evacuated. That moment was taken, just like Eona had taken it from him four years ago.

It was their time. Another voice reminded him. This time it was Maroy who had said it, some months ago by now. He was still not sure how she had figured most of it out, but when she had begun to talk she knew what was bothering him and why he was even more distant now. It is not your time. She had told him after she had noticed the grip of the pistol sticking out from under his pillow in the barracks one day.

Closing his eyes he let the memories he had wash over him once again. He was not sure if his mind would bring up the good memories, or the bad ones. All he knew was the next few hours were going to be long, one way or the other.

OOC:

WC-1065. Scral has some major psych issues to deal with now. Bringing up the Fearless around him is probably a bad idea right now.

FM|PO2 Trimik "Scral" Dyr'Jin|B-2|26th Vast Imp. Fighter Squadron "Tuk'ata" |W:58 "Javelin"|mSSD Atrus|TF:A|1FL|SFC|VEN|VE [MC1] [MC2] {=A=} (=^TG^=)"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."

[This message has been edited by Scral
(edited March 1, 2012
7:35:14 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Scral
(edited March 1, 2012
7:40:01 PM)]

RyunoComNet n00b

[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman (LCRW)

Post Number: 17
Total Posts: 29
Joined: Feb 2012
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 2, 2012
12:36:24 AM

“Command, Tuk’ata Four on final approach. Estimated time of arrival: Four minutes, landing bay one-one.” Leading Crewman Naomi Ryuno’s unmistakable voice broke into the Atrus’ communications system amid the chatter of numerous patrolling pilots, addressing in particular the director of Hangar Bay 11’s traffic. Even before the message had broadcast, the pilot was levelling her Interceptor from a lazy dive that would bring her parallel to the belly of the ship and on approach to the array of massive hangar bays housed therein. Naomi had voluntarily taken the patrol shift that she, presently, brought to a close ... For the simple purpose of logging any and all exploration that she could get away with of the space surrounding Abrae. There was that and the fact that she desperately needed hours in the cockpit. She had seen simulated combat of course, but how much like the real thing was it truly? For one thing, she could see in a simulation. Here, there was just enough light produced by Abrae’s red Sun that she could probably see well enough in a close-quarters dogfight to react to visual cues, but would have to rely mostly on her Interceptor’s sensors. What this meant was that if said sensors were disabled, she’d be useless.

Inwardly, she sighed. “Congratulations, Tuk’ata Squadron. You have yourselves the only blind pilot in the Vast Imperial Navy.”

About that time, her thoughts were broken by a male, Coruscanti-accented voice, presumably that of a flight controller. ”Affirmative, Tuk’ata Four. Cleared to land, Hangar Bay one-one. Welcome back.”

Naomi’s little Interceptor made its way along and underneath the belly of the nineteen kilometre long Super Star Destroyer as its pilot throttled the engines up slowly and steadily on approach to the aforementioned hangar bay. The Atrus was truly a huge ship. Huge, and beautiful. To simply look at her from the outside was awe-inspiring ... But should it not be so for the flagship of an Imperial fleet? Of any fleet, for that matter ... Sub-standard appearances did little in the way of inspiration, and even less in the way of fear. Such was the point behind the design of any Imperial ship. Inspiration and fear. Naomi throttled her engines back as the containment field of one of several of the Atrus’ hangar bays swelled before her Interceptor, neatly swallowing the ship as it passed through the opening. At this point the pilot cut her engines entirely, and triggered the craft’s repulsorlifts, blasting heated air across the hangar deck as the apparatus took hold and brought the small craft to a halt. The high-pitched whine, much like a powering-down turbine engine filled the hangar as Naomi cut power entirely to her Interceptor and the repulsorlift emitters wound slowly and steadily to a halt, lowering the craft to the deck. She let out a long breath and triggered the restraints binding her to the craft’s seat, releasing them with the release of a single buckle located at about her stomach and pressing herself somewhat into the seat to avoid being whipped as the belts sharply and simultaneously retracted. She then proceeded to systematically and silently unhook the craft’s life support systems from her flight suit as she rose from the seat to disengage the access hatch on the roof of the craft.

The hatch disengaged underneath the twist of an access handle and opened with the hiss of a breaking vacuum seal. As the hatch swung open, Naomi released the handle and hoisted herself upward through the body-sized opening left on the roof. She then dropped to the deck and turned smoothly to face the Interceptor as a pair of docking clamps descended from the high ceiling of the bay, to grasp the starfighter from either side and lift it from the deck. Eventually this craft would undergo a post-flight evaluation carried out by some technician somewhere on the Atrus, and it would then be sent to join the rest of the Interceptors belonging to Tuk’ata Squadron. Naomi watched almost wistfully behind the sun-shields of her faceless helmet as the clamps that had lifted her Interceptor halted at the hangar’s ceiling and proceeded down their rail, presumably to carry the aforementioned Interceptor to one of many holding bays, larger still than the hangar in which she now stood.

Naomi only removed her eyes from the Interceptor when it was out of sight, and only then did she disengage her helmet from her flightsuit with a sharp hiss. She drew a deep breath through her nose, and expelled it into a sigh. The difference between the false, scrubbed and filtrated atmosphere in a Star Destroyer wasn’t much different than the false, scrubbed and filtrated atmosphere inside her helmet, or aboard any starship for that matter- There were just more people breathing it.

One final glance around the hangar bay, and Naomi tucked her helmet underneath her left arm. First she needed to get a patrol report filed, and then she’d be free to sit and just ... Think. As she made her way across the hangar floor, she passed a pair of pilots conversing about the movements of the Navy, and the fact that they all seemed to be consolidating forces in Vectra. This topic certainly sparked her curiosity, but she moved on. She would contemplate it later, when she had idle time to do so. It could be that something was expected to happen- There was always that undertone, especially during a time of war ... Or it could be, and probably was, something else entirely. She made a point to tell herself not to worry about it.

Rather than her thoughts, she focused on the steady clacking of her boot heels on the deck of the Atrus, reverberating through the long, high hallways as she rounded turn after turn. She knew her destination, even if she’d had, and still did have some degree of difficulty in finding it. Forcing herself to think about ... Not really anything save, maybe, counting her steps made the walk from the hangar in which she had landed to the Tuk’ata Squadron barracks seem infinite, even upon her eventual arrival.

Upon rounding the corridor into the darkened room, she paused in the doorway as her eyes slowly and clumsily, but never fully adjusted to the change in lighting between the almost blindingly-lit corridor and the barracks as the room’s single occupant had dimmed it. She squinted slightly, as if it helped her focus, and it did so ... A little bit, anyway- Just sufficient that she could make out the outline of the room’s occupant, but she didn’t recognize his structure.

Naomi proceeded inward, basing her movements off of a combination of her knowledge of the Barracks’ layout and her position as relevant to the light of Scral’s datapad, which was like a starburst to her senses. Because of this contrast, she couldn’t make out the content of the message that was playing on its screen. As she walked, step after step, she inwardly wished that her boots were quieter, as she had concluded upon entering that Scral didn’t seem to want to be disturbed, or he probably would have said something upon Naomi’s entry ... She knew Scral had heard her feeling her way through the darkness. After all, how could he not?

Naomi resolved, upon locating a datapad herself, that she would just keep her head down and file that patrol report of hers. Silently, she plugged the datapad into a jack on the wall and called up a template.

OOC:

And that’s where I leave it.

WC: 1255

Naomi arrives from a voluntary patrol routine and joins Scral in the barracks. She decides that he doesn’t seem to want to be bothered ... So there’s no conversation in this post. May be conversation to come though, depending.

[This message has been edited by Ryuno
(edited March 2, 2012
1:02:44 AM)]

SerpentComNet CadetImperial Baronet

[VE-NAVY] Master Chief Petty Officer (MCPO)

Post Number: 295
Total Posts: 1214
Joined: Jul 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 2, 2012
9:01:50 AM

The planet Abrae rotated slowly in the forward viewport, a barren world of arid, rust-brown plains and stark grey mountains. At first glance unremarkable, until one looked closer and saw the buildings upon its surface, the headquarters of the Vast Empire Navy. Indeed, one could almost miss the small complexes, home to a mere half million people, until one looked beyond the planet itself and its orbit, there to behold the proud and potent warships of the First Fleet.

Pherik ‘Serpent’ Zail looked out of the viewport at the other ships present, and marvelled at what he saw. He had never seen such a gathering, and he felt humbled by it. Humbled, and a little annoyed about being upstaged. The ship upon which he served as Executive Officer, the Imperial II-Class Star Destroyer Halcyon Warrior, was a mighty vessel, truly worthy of being the centrepiece of any fleet. And yet here and now, for the first time ever, Zail felt his ship totally in the shadow of another, for close by lay the colossal Super Star Destroyer Atrus. A magnificent ship to be sure, and it was there that his Captain, Chief of Naval Warfare Dracule ‘Drac’ Mihawk, was meeting with his contemporaries, leaving Serpent, his trusted right hand, in temporary command.

Behind Zail, the bridge crew of the Halcyon Warrior went about their duties. Quiet, efficient, busying themselves with routine, the bridge officers of the potent vessel needed little help from their First Officer, and Serpent had time to relax and enjoy the view.

And then, as he allowed himself a moment to relax, a thought rose unbidden into his mind. Yes, you are the XO of this awesome warship, but do you really deserve it?

Zail tried to brush the thought away, but it kept haunting him. He allowed himself a glance down at his rank patch, indicating him as non-com with the rank of Master Chief Petty Officer. It was a point of pride that he had risen so far, but also a point of worry. Captain Mihawk had gone to bat for Serpent, defending his decision to appoint one so low in the ranks as his XO, and Zail had vowed not to let the Mon Calamari officer down.

Serpent was still not used to the other bridge officers calling him ‘sir’, or standing at the front of the Halcyon Warrior and knowing that, at times like this, when Drac was absent, some thirty seven thousand people looked to him for leadership.

Zail had trained and honed his skills as best he could. For a time he had served as temporary XO of the Strike-Class Cruiser Surprise, under Captain Trykon. That bold month-long campaign against the New Republic had been stressful and tough, but it had taught Serpent much about coordinating a bridge in times of pressure.

Once that assignment had finished, Zail had returned to the Halcyon Warrior, serving as its First Officer as the first time during the brief battle of Escrutiod Eleven. That attack, singularly dominated by the Vast Empire forces, had been an altogether different experience, but again he had learned much.

Still, though he felt more comfortable in his role, he would feel a lot better when Captain Mihawk came back on board. Something about so many ships being at Abrae at once made Serpent nervous. Something was going to happen, he was sure of it.

Intruding on his thoughts, a young crewman came up to him at a swift-yet-dignified march, datapad in hand. Snapping off a salute, he said, “Sir! The report from the hangar bay, as you requested!”

Zail nodded, taking the datapad and running his eyes over the contents. While he was focused on his reading, he could still practically feel the nerves and tension in the youngster beside him. Serpent understood this. He had been fast gaining a reputation as a harsh XO, and some people called him the ‘blue-eyed snake’, combining his striking eyes, callsign, and his tendency to strike suddenly and without warning when a subordinate displeased him. Zail found the fearsome reputation not altogether unwelcome.

“What is this?” He asked, a detail on the report catching his eye.

“Sir?” Asked the crewman, his voice tight with nerves.

“The repair teams have scheduled a shuttle for maintenance ahead of one of our TIE Bombers,” He said, checking the details. “Why?”

“The maintenance on that shuttle is long overdue, sir,” Said the crewman, who, to Serpent’s pleasant surprise, had obviously got his details in order before compiling the report. “According to regulations regarding the routine maintenance of Naval vessels...”

“I know the regs,” Interjected Zail, not harshly, but sharp enough to make the younger man stop in mid-sentence. “However this is a warship. Combat craft, especially our TIE squadrons, must be maintained to their peak performance at all times. Kindly return to the hangar and tell our techs to re-prioritise accordingly.”

“Yes, sir!” Said the crewman, taking the datapad back from the XO.

“Return to me with an updated report when you are done,” Said Zail. However, he did appreciate the hard work that the man had clearly put in. That should be noted, right? “Good work, crewman,” He said, and saw a flash of relief in the other’s eyes. “Dismissed!” Serpent then snapped, his briefly kind tone of voice gone.

The other saluted, and then turned and hurried off, somehow managing to be both quicker and yet more parade-ground dignified than before.

Serpent returned to viewing the First Fleet.

Being the First Officer was tough, but he was learning.

OOC:

924 words. A little intro for my character, recapping recent stories he has been involved in, and his continuing anxieties about being XO of the Halcyon Warrior. Also, for the second time, I have mentioned that my character is a harsh First Officer, and that the crew have created a spiteful nick-name for him as a result.

Striding out of the turbolift, Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran rapidly manipulated his datapad, trying to grasp the situation at hand. Currently, there was a small fire in the cafeteria on deck 66b. Echelon was a Damage Control Officer, and they had to deal with things like these. It was a petty, often repetetive task that annoyed him and the other Damage Control Officers. Why couldn't people just be safe with fire? Why couldn't they stay in the room when they had fires lit? Why does Tusken squadron have a natural obssession with fires in their barracks?

Echelon shook his head, appauled by the level of personal safety in the ship. He touched his datapad, opening up a transmition between him and a woman near the fire.

"Alright," Echelon unhappily began, "do we have a fire team down there?"

"Yeah..." the woman replied hesitantly, "About that..."

Echelon stomped his foot on the ground in anger.

The stupidity of some people!

"So you're telling me that you called me, but you didn't call a fire team?"

"Yes."

He closed the transmition, opening up another with the Deck fire team.

"Hey Rick," Echelon asked wondering what the Fire Chief thinks about all of the fires, "we've got another fire, your deck."

"No. It actually isn't this time. Its in the cafeteria, but you better get there quick. Its been going for a while now, and the idiot woman down there decided not to call you guys," instructed Echelon.

"Alright. We'll be down in a bit. Over." The transmition ended, leaving Echelon to his boot clanks along the dull metal floor. When he began to smell smoke, he knew he was close. Turning around another bend, he entered the cafeteria.

Normally, there would be tables and chairs to sit at, but now there was a raging fire around half of the room. Smoke was pouring out, and the woman, who looked as unitelligent as Echelon thought she was, was leaning against the wall, looking slightly frantic.

"Woman," Echelon began, "we don't have much time. Tell me how the fire started, where it started, and any other important details."

"Well," she replied in a high voice, "It was a Wednesday."

Echelon mentally facepalmed. "I know it is a Wednesday."

"And I was cooking on the stove over there, and I had to got potty."

Potty? Is this woman five?

"When I came back, the fire was in the kitchen, so I waited for it go out, but it wouldn't."

You waited...?!

"So then I called the bridge, and said I had an urgent message for the captain."

You called the Naval Commander because of a kitchen fire...?!

"He started roaring at me, so I got scared."

He's a fraking wookie, you have to wait for it to be translated by his droid!

"Then a robot voice got on, and said to call the Damage Control Department. So I did."

Echelon shook his head. He wondered how on Abrae this woman got onto this ship, but then again, she was a cook. She had to be the most idiotic, ignorant, unintelligent...

He sighed and looked over to see the Fire Team come rushing in. In there hands, they carried large hoses that would spray anti-flame substances. They would put out the fire, while Echelon coordinated the other efforts. They rushed over to the fire, flipping down their masks, and began to pump the white foam rapidly into the fire.

Echelon, starting his part of the process, began operating his datapad. The room, or the surrounding rooms for that matter, were smokey. People would start to freak out, which would cause them to stop their work, and without their work, the ship couldn't function at its full effeciency! Or so, that's what they told him down at the academy. He truly doubted that if a few people stopped working, the ship would shut down. Though, it was good motivation.

He brought up his Damage Control Program, and it showed a top down view of the ship. He selected the surrounding areas around the fire and pressed a button. Almost immediately, he looked up at the ceiling to see several vents open up. Turning back to his device, he engaged the emergency vent fans and set them to 70%. There was a downside to this method. Sucking the smoke out would cause a draft, fueling the fire, but there was a way to overcome this.

Pushing the lady and himself out the door, he shut it and using his datapad, he sealed it to keep any air from coming in or out. Though now there was a vaccum in the room. The fire would soon use up all of the availabe oxygen, effectively suffocating it self to death. The firefighters would be safe from the vaccum. Their suits were sealed and pressurize, plus, they had a tank of oxygen.

It was all Echelon could do at the moment for small fires like these, and a moment or two later, Echelon received word that the fire had been put out. Closing the vents, turing off the fans, and unsealing the door, Echelon walked in to see the damage.

Luckily, the room hadn't been too hurt. The tables and chairs would have to be replaced, but the walls were fine. The entire room would have to be cleaned, but Echelon didn't deal with that part.

Walking away, he heard Rick the Fire Chief's voice. "Aren't you going to do the Fire Report?"

Echelon grinned. He knew exactly what to do.

Back in the Defense Room, he walked over to Owen and said, "Hey. Guess what. You're going to do the Fire Report!"

"I'd rather not," Owen replied, unsure of the situation.

"Well to bad, I already told the Fire Chief you would, and he doesn't like to be waited upon."

Owen, who decided he was defeated, grabbed his datapad. "But I don't even know the details."

Echelon grinned. He had planned his revenge perfectly, and now, Owen would be tortured like he had been. "That's alright. Their is a lady down there that will tell you ALL about it."

With that, Owen left the room, and Echelon coudln't wait to here Owen's complaints about the idiot-lady. He chuckled to himself, sat back down in his chair, and closed his eyelids. Letting the awkward silence of the room doze him off.

OOC:

Word Count: 1,076. I really don't think I did a good job on this post. I blame pre-breakfast-morning Echelon. Though, I can't say I tried too hard on this post either. I really just wanted to get to writing. This is a just a small taste of what Echelon does on the Atrus.

Michele ‘Ellesmere’ Blondeau strode off the turbolift and made her way towards Commander Trykon’s private quarters. She had recently been posted on the Surprise as ship Executive Officer and her nerves were playing games with her. She had heard whispered rumors of the man she was serving under; he apparently had done some things not many agreed with as well as was pulling some strings behind the scenes. She was taking over from Serpent whom was posted on another ship these days, she forgot which one – it would come back to her eventually; no matter… Word had it that her commander had a hand in the VENI dealings, along with having his own ship and being in command of the Naval Academy, of which she was one of its staff… This man had a lot of power in very many places; she had to ensure she stayed in his good books.

As she heard a set of boots clacking along behind her, she whirled around; startled and found herself looking into the eyes of a young Junior Officer. He frowned, gave her a strange look and side-stepped, ensuring he gave her a wide berth before heading back on his way to wherever he had been off to.

Calm yourself, Michele! You’ll be meeting up with Trykon in just a few minutes and the last thing he needs is to see you like this! He might already suspect you’ve heard whisperings of his actions, influences and whatever else he’s done or is in the process of accomplishing, so calm yourself and don’t assume too much until you’ve met him

Taking a few deep, fortifying breaths she looked at her hands and noted they were trembling slightly. Tensing her body, she forced the shaking to a stop and walked the remaining distance to the commander’s quarters. Stopping in front of commander Trykon’s quarters, she slowly raised her hand and activated the buzzer, signalling her arrival.

“Come in” a voice called out in a clear, amiable tone from within. Taking one last, deep breath she stepped forward as the door hissed open, she steeled herself for the meeting which was just mere seconds away. As she stepped inside, she stood stiffly erect and found herself saluting crisply.

“At ease”

As she lowered her hand, she quickly scanned the room she was in but still maintained her full attention to her commander. The room was spartanly furnished, there seemed to be no photographs or any personal items in view which made the gears in her brain start to turn. Who was this man? What was his past life like? Did he have any family? Were they still living? What was he truly like? Would he have her wrapped around his little finger in no time? Wishing Serpent were here to help tone down the tension she felt in the room, she took a few quiet steps forward after having realized she was still standing at the threshold of the door.

“I realize you may have heard some unsavory things having to do with me and are currently unsure of what to make of what you currently see in front of you. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir” she answered in a soft tone.

“Let me assure you then that I treat every member of my crew fairly, I’m unsure as to how much information Serpent gave you before you boarded as such I would like to invite you to come on over here and have a seat, we’ll have a chat about things and hopefully we’ll get you nice and comfortable in your new role as my XO.”

As she sat across from her commander, she couldn’t help but tune into what she was feeling. Fear? Apprehension? Nervous? Looking into her commander’s face his eyes seemed to bore into hers, and she could see an ever so slight glint in them. Taking an unsteady breath, she forced herself to relax and to try and forget everything she had heard about this man and resolved to learn new things on this day. The truth even, if they were going to go that far.

OOC:

WC:687 kind of short, but my posts will get longer as I get 'warmed up' so to speak as I haven't written in a true story which wasn't CD in ages. This post has to do with Ellesmere meeting Trykon on the Surprise after finding out she was now posted there

"Chief Petty Officer Echelon," called a male robotic voice over the communication system. Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran swiveled around in his chair, pressing a button to reply back.

"Yes?" he queried.

"Please make your way to the bridge. Admiral Stormz requests your presence immediately."

Unsure of what to make of the sudden call, Echelon closed the frequency, pushing his body out of his chair. He stood up, grabbed his datapad, and adjusted his uniform. You wouldn't want to look slobby in front of the Admiral. Around his gangly, skinny body were the other Defense officers, and around them were consoles, switches, dials, levers, and buttons all pertaining to the coordination of defense. If you couldn't already tell, they were in the Defense Operation room.

A certain Shield technician, named Tim, smirked and taunted, "You're in trouble, aren't you Eche?"

"Well, be nice to him. You wouldn't want the wookie to eat ya!" said another Damage Control underling, sipping at a flask of something strong.

"Quiet, you! He'd throw you out the airlock if he heard you say that." The other officers chuckled because they knew it was true.

"Pfft. Him and what-"

Echelon grinned. "You were about to say 'army', weren't you?"

"Yeah, that expression doesn't really work around here does it?"

Echelon shook his head, exiting the Defense Room, and leaving the taunts and sarcasm behind.

He walked briskly down the hall, his shiny black boots clanking against the metal at a repetitive consistent rate. When something needed to get done, Echelon became persistent, but he also wanted it done fast, thus his fast and determined stride through the ship. The bridge, however, was only down the hall.

The bridge's thick metal doors slid open at Echelon's approach, and he immediately walked in. At the front of the bridge was a view port, and beside it, the captain of the vessel and the commander of the Navy. Out its glass sat the slowly rotating moon of Abrae. From the ship's view, the moon was mainly dark, but a small sliver of sunlight reflected off its surface on the right side. It was a cool sight at the least, Echelon thought, but there was other business to attend to.

He walked past the countless number of consoles and control stations, all being operated by some of the most experienced personnel in the Navy, and stood next to the wookie, who was considerably taller than Echelon.

Echelon saluted before inquiring, "You needed me, Admiral?"

The wookie grunted and roared, but his interpretation droid soon interpreted it into Galactic Basic. "Yes, Chief Petty Officer," the droid/wookie began, "I have called on you, not as a Damage Control Officer, but as a certified Engineer. I want you to do a brief inspection of the structure and skeleton of this ship. Just to make sure it is up to standard."

Echelon smiled. It had taken a lot of work to get his Engineer certification, and now it was being put to good use.

"It will be done Admiral, but what about your other Engineers? Why me?"

The wookie, realizing Echelon's discomfort, roared, "[I'm just joking, Chief. You'rrre a rrreliable man. Now off with you. I have otherrr matterrrs to attend too.]"

He was about to turn away when he realized he had a question.

"What is this for, Admiral?" he asked.

"[You'rrre a smarrrt man, Echelon. I think you can figurrre it out.]" That being said, Echelon left the bridge to begin his report.

Then it must be true, there must be a battle coming! But why so secretive? Ah, loose lips sink ships. It is going to be a trap. Well played, Naval High Command. Well played. Though, I know the Admiral trusts me, and I can't tell anyone...I shouldn't even mention it. Or think about it....

After his engineering report was completed, he submitted it, and trotted back to his barracks to spend the rest of the evening relaxed. There was nothing particularly bad in the report. The ship's structure was holding well, and it could brace heavy impacts. To get the data, he used the method of sending sound waves along the skeleton beams are bars of the ship. By reading the vibrations these sound waves made, he could accurately tell the structural integrity of the ship.

Entering the barracks, he plopped himself down in a chair besides Owen, who was eating cheese puffs which really wasn't a surprise. The entertainment system was on, showing an ongoing Grav-Ball game in progress.

The Lead Damage Control Officer, a woman named Xerina Flael, came over with a bottle of liquor. She leaned on the back of Echelon's chair, interested in the Grav-Ball game.

"Can I have some of the Green Stuff," Echelon asked kindly to Xerina.

She shook her head. "Nope. This is Blue Stuff by the way. Popular with the star fighter jockeys." Echelon turned his attention back around to the Grav-Ball game. It was Abrae versus Coruscant, and it was getting really intense. Vast Empire versus New Republic. Enemies. A popular Coruscanti player ricochet off of a wall and slammed the ball into the goal. The crowds in the stadium went wild, while everyone in the barracks cursed.

"Urg!" grunted Feren Olus, the Head of Defense, "The Abrae goalie is a nerf-herder! We picked him up as a free agent, and he can't do diddle!"

"I liked the one we had last year," Frendin Ketchar commented, the leader of the Shield Technicians, "He could block anything."

Echelon, not entirely focusing on the game, was thinking about the upcoming battle. It slightly bothered him that he knew about it, and everyone else didn't. It made him uneasy, and it didn't seem fair. But he couldn't trust anyone. Though, he really wished he could tell people.

I'll just see what other people think about it...

"So," he began, "What do you guys think about the higher amount of ships in the system?"

Xerina, taking a gulp of his Blue Stuff, said, "Yeah, I also passed several engineers in the hall today. I usually only pass one. Kind of odd, isn't it?"

Feren Olus, wanting to get in on the gossip, said, "It almost makes you think there might be a bat-" He stopped, and him and the others cheered when he saw that an Abrae player had made a goal.

Well, at least other people are slightly suspicious...

OOC:

Word Count: 1,154. A post about Echelon doing some engineer stuff, and figuring out that a battle is forthcoming, but he feels guilty because he knows he'll have to keep it to himself. This writing is definitely better than last post.

Warnings blared in Hades' ear as the holo resolved into dozens of ships - their tags identified them as Imperial Dominion. Hades grimaced, and the opposing forces - that is to say the VE, who had been on alert, were already moving. They split - not running away but rather forming up into task forces and fleets, squadrons and wings. Virtual explosions lit up the holo-simulation and Hades' face as the two forces engaged. It was over all too quickly, the VE forces crushed the Dominion with little-no effort.

If only. The truth was that the sim was set on easy and the tactic used - Thrawn's Pincer - would not really be practical in a fleet environment of this side. Hades had been a devoted student of Naval tactics and history from a young age, and he was not inexperienced at that side of things. But he doubted he'd ever need them in an official capacity in the VE. He had, after all, been a starfighter pilot for almost four months.

His recent promotion to PO2 after the Battle of Brinlik had proved that he had the ability to distinguish himself when the time arose, but it really seemed to be a step down from Hades' fast pace lifestyle back on Nar Shadda. Shaking his head slowly, Hades stood from the simulation in a daze of sorts. He was there but not there, mind wandering in a place far from the metal interior of the mSSD Atrus.. He walked down the corridor, almoast as if he were high. But he wasn't high because he hated drugs and he would never take them. He was just.. daydreaming. He was snapped out of this reverie by a yelp of pain.

Hades looked down at the small engineer he'd walked into, the Senior Crewman's patch fresh on the man's shoulder. Hades growled at him and the junior enlisted man scampered away, tail metaphorically between his legs. His metaphorical tail anyway. Hades looked over his shoulder to see if the man had a real tail, and was relieved to see he did not. He hated tails. Metaphorical or not.

With a huff, Hades continued walking, dark thoughts about tails circling his mind, until he reached the hangar bay. It was there he saw his fighter... several emblems of the NR - small - had been added to the main body of his interceptor, with slashes through them indicating kills. Hades was a sentimental one, and he kept track of the lives he took. He was not evil but he was inexorable when he had an objective, a trait that occasionally alienated his wingmates.

They are more forgiving than I am, Hades thought of anyone who had been alienated by his uncompromising sense of duty. The one pilot he had really formed a connection with was Ryn. Kathryn "Ryn" Kerdi. Former member of Nightshrike.. just as he now was. Hades had been assigned to Tuk'ata, after what happened with Nightshrike.. much to his disgruntal. But, what would Naval High Command care for the disgruntal of a Petty Officer. Petty disgruntal by a Petty Officer. Hades grunted at his own humour, as poor as it was.

His fighter had no other customisations aside from the kill count, woefully lacking in the Nightshrike symbol it had once proudly displayed. For Hades, this was not only saddening but an analogy of the Vast Empire. Things were being changed, gears were shifting, and people were changing. Especially the bridge officers and high ranking people.. Hades thought, his suspicion turning to the people who ordered him around. There had been a flurry of activity in the VEN over the past days and Hades was curious, one might dare say suspicious. It's treason then?

Nay, Hades was merely curious. He was always curious and suspicious of things he didn't know. But not Ryn.. she had somehow wormed her way into a friendship with him and he had no idea how. It was poor security on his part but he forgave himself the temporary lapse, as his friendship with Ryn was important. It helped him. He expressed more emotion to her than anyone else, even when he'd learned of his parents' death, he did not even blink. Few knew Hades as well as Ryn, and fewer still were alive to tell the tale. Hades hate - hated being exposed. But he had been exposed to Ryn and she had earned his trust and friendship - consequently his loyalty. She deserved every ounce of loyalty.

Hades once again was snapped out of his reverie, this time by himself. He shook his head and realised he hadn't seen Ryn since the conclusion of the sim mission against Tuk'ata when Nightshrike was still around. He'd put his stuff in the Tuk'ata quarters, but Ryn had either been sleeping or otherwise occupied. He welcomed himself in to Tuk'ata when the other pilots were absent, and hadn't been much of the social type. Ryn knew him, as did Maroy. As far as he was concerned, the others did not matter. He was interested in Scral, as Scral was a veteran.

Hades was still wet at the nose, compared to Maroy and Scral, and he could learn from them, despite the fact Scral was the same rank as him. Experience deserved respect, in Hades' book. Ryuno, on the other hand.. she had distinguished herself in the academy but had yet to prove herself in combat. She seemed capable enough but when the osik] hits the fan is when they would see what she's really made of. Hades grumbled to himself some more before leaning affectionately on the wing of his TIE..

He supposed he'd better introduce himself officially to the rest of Tuk'ata soon... Soon was a synonym for later. Later was also a synonym. A synonym for now. Hades frowned. He was not that sociable.

If it is done when it were done, then it was best it were done quickly.

[This message has been edited by Hades
(edited March 4, 2012
5:41:29 AM)]

EchelonComNet Cadet

[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer (CPO)

Post Number: 299
Total Posts: 545
Joined: May 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 3, 2012
9:42:33 AM

Helen Yitka was a simple administrative assistant, and with her beauty and charismatic smile, she was charming as well. Her hazel nut brown hair was soft and light, almost flowing out her head, and her dark blue eyes held the attention of every man she met. Not part of combat personnel, she maintained no rank, and she only operated as a paperwork filer, but when you worked on a military vessel, you would be pulled into the fight one point or another. It was inevitable.

She was walking down the hall, her hips swinging, her hair bouncing. Down the hall, Chief Petty Officer walked in the opposite direction, and he was taking notice of this new, young, good lookin’ woman. As they passed, their gazes met for a brief moment. That was all that needed to happen to spark the interest in each other.

Echelon, a little fluttery about this new woman, felt his morale go up, knowing there was this woman on the ship. He couldn’t place what it was. He hadn’t ever really felt this way before. It was odd. It was like a warm, happy feeling, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized what it was.

Helen began feeling the same way, and she automatically knew what the feeling was. But why had it just sparked up all of the sudden? He hadn’t even met this young man. It was only as simple glance, but yet, it transferred so much emotion. So much power. It was odd, and strange. But her concerns were soon overwhelmed by the appearance of this new emotion.

This emotion was the most complex in the world. This emotion was love.

It actually turned out that they passed each other everyday after their shift, and everyday, their eyes met, strengthening the silent but powerful union between them. It was only a matter of time before they spoke.

“Uh-eh-um,” Echelon suddenly stuttered out of his mouth, clearly nervous and unsure of the situation. Helen had stopped her daily walk down the hall, pleased to here this man’s voice for the first time. “I...I, um, don’t know you name.”

Helen smiled, fueling a spark of emotion and Echelon, before replying, “My name is Helen. Helen Yitka.”

Helen Yitka. Helen. I like that name...

“My name is Echelon. No! I mean. That is my callsign. Not my name. That would be weird if we all only had our callsigns be our names.” Echelon stopped, realizing he was beginning his nervous runons. “Anyway, my name is Finbar. Finbar Bandoran.” He smiled, briefly, relieved he finally got the message across.

“Well, Finbar. I’ll see you around.” Echelon tried to say something, but it ended up coming out as gibberish. He smiled, and waved softly as Helen walked away, her light brown hair bouncing with every step. He tried to move, but he was to mesmerize by the moment. This new emotion he had discovered was very powerful. Only, he was only feeling the “discovering” part of the emotion, and not the “loss” part of the emotion. The latter, he would soon experience.

In the next few days, he stood mesmerized at the sight of Helen. Only if he could actually sit down and talk with her. Get to know her better. Then one day after a busy day of work, Echelon passed her in the hall, but this time, she touched his shoulder. He jumped away, extremely surprised at the minuscule gesture, but apologized immediately.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he stated, sweat beginning to form on his skin.

Helen’s smile calmed him down, and she said in her smooth, mellow, voice, “Echelon. Tomorrow, would you like to-” Echelon nodded, before she could finish. Whatever she was going to ask, Echelon would say yes. It was an instinct. “I was wondering if you would like to eat dinner with me after my shift.”

“Y-yeah. That would be great. Like as a colleague to colleague thing. You know, where we would discuss politics and military stuff. I do tha-” He was interrupted by the soft kiss of Helen on his cheek. It was so sudden, but it was so warm, sending tingles all throughout Echelon’s body.

“No,” she said, breaking off her lips from his nervously sweaty cheek, “like a ‘friend’ to ‘friend’ thing.”

“A date?”

Helen nodded, giving a small smirk. “See you tomorrow.” With that, she strode back down the hall. Echelon felt his cheek. It was still tingly from the sudden, but pleasant kiss.

I...I have a date? How...how very odd.

Though, Echelon had no idea what he was getting into. The feeling, no, the love would seem strong, warm, and pleasant at first, but that was only one perspective. The perspective of loss would soon come into play. And it would be devastating.

OOC:

Word Count: 810. A short post introducing Helen Yitka. She’ll be important in my upcoming posts. Sense a little bit of foreshadowing? Yeah, its a bit of romance and all, and its a bit weird for a kid my age to me writing this stuff. But hey, we’re all a bunch of weirdos. I needed something emotionally strong for Echelon to attach to, and in this post I just establish the relationship between her and Echelon before...well, you’ll see...

Ryn closed her eyes and tried to push the images out of her head. They had returned from the Battle of Brinlik then been thrust straight in to simulators, on top of all that Ryn had endured more personnel changes than a retirement villa.

She still had the nightmares, of the bugs. Instead of just asteroids, in her mind the Scree came out of the vents and beneath her cot.

With every release of her fist she imagined pounding one of the creatures against the bag. The sweat that sprayed with each punch was the guts hitting her viewport.

She'd lost track of how long she spent in the gym. At first there were other crewmen and pilots with her, now she was alone. She couldn't help but think that it was better in her state of mind to be alone with her thoughts.

Ryn had become jaded by her experiences, she no longer wanted to make connections with her fellow pilots. She couldn't bear if something happened to them or even if they were transferred.

Everyone leaves, everyone moves on.

Her fist hit the bag so hard hard fast she knew right away that something was wrong. She felt the pain in her shoulder instantly and grabbed it out of instinct rather than logic since she couldn't do anything with her gloves on. Her face was leaning forward in exhaustion, she could see the beads of sweat slowly fall from her brow down her nose. She reached her arm around to hug the bag and lean heavily against it. Suddenly she felt the exhaustion from all the things she had been through, it hit her and she wore it like a wet coat.

Some time later, she stumbled to the weight bench and collapsed clumsily. She groped towards her gym bag sitting as her companion on the bench her hands fumbling for a towel. Her muscles felt limp and sore, Ryn would be paying for what she did today tomorrow.

Her mind drifted to her yet again shuffled squadron. She was the only member of Tuk'ata left, but the closed Nightshrike and afforded them some new life and a new Squadron Commander. She had yet to meet him, but he couldn't have been any happier to get the surprise promotion than she was to be apart of the movement yet again. For once she would like some stability, for herself and her sanity.

Hades was back with her, that should have been a comfort to Ryn. Yet she had yet to see him. That was more her doing than him. He was the prime example of how getting close to fellow pilots could backfire. They were together in the academy, then both assigned to Nightshrike, then they both were chosen for the mission to Brinlik, but after that they had been kept apart. Her tired mind almost started to wonder if that was on purpose, but who had time for conspiracies with everything else going on.

Maroy was a returning pilot, she'd only met the twi'lek briefly during the sim exercise. That left Scral and Ryuno. Scral was another returning veteran, they were apparently coming out of the woodwork to be on the Atrus while Ryuno on the other hand was fresh out of the academy. Ryn had to be mindful of her gloomy attitude of late and not scare the new girl off too fast.

Ryn stood slowly, being sure not to loose her footing under her wobbly, overtired legs. It was time to leave her doubts in the gym, to let each droplet of sweat on the floor to remain there so she could move forward and be apart of her squadron. For better or worse this was now the group of men and women she needed to connect to and protect.

She rolled her neck and felt the bones crack as they released pent up pressure. Ryn grabbed her bag and walked towards the barracks, smirking at a young crewman that looked startled at the Petty Officer's appearance. She could only imagine how hours at the gym made her look and smell. She didn't care though, she owned her pain and was proud of how she handled it. It wasn't perfect but it had worked. She walked out of the gym a new person, with a focus that wasn't going to be easily broken.

OOC:

WC: 728

AAR: Ryn dealing with her aggravation of all the changes and challenges she's faced since joining the Navy.

She is heading towards the barracks so anyone still there be ready to run into a sweaty and smelly Ryn.

Silence. Everything was so very silent that the human male could almost hear himself think. Almost being the keyword, and thank the gods that was not the case for the noise would've no doubt deafened the blond fellow. Layers upon layers of plans, schemes, ideas, machinations and contingencies - all of them ever changing, ever evolving and the individual known as Seth Qorbin was trying to keep up with them all, managing at the same time to hide this fact under the guise of indifference and casualness.

Normally this sort of silence would've been welcome. Normally it would've even been craved for. Normality however was in this case a cruel illusion. Thanks to his new position Seth Qorbin was kindly enough included in a couple of most interesting briefings. The sort of briefings that no records are kept of. The sort that are held behind closed doors, in locations that have been checked, rechecked and even triple checked for any possible security leaks. The sort that mentioning about them outside said locations would be deemed high treason, punishable in only one possible manner.

The calm before the storm was it? the Onderonian male asked himself as he opened his eyes and stared outside through the thick transparisteel. The soothing darkness of space... The billions and trillions of twinkling stars... The dozens of ships patrolling the system - some of them waiting for what was to come, others however kept in the dark and closely monitored by VENI spooks infiltrated in various positions...

There were so many secrets. So many lies. Some were ordered by higher ranking officers and even the NHC directly - all for the greater good of the Vast Empire. Or so they claimed at any rate. Then again Seth's deception ran even deeper than that. Indeed DeepSix had plans of his own, meant to benefit not the Empire he was serving but rather him directly in more ways than one if at all possible. This is how the blond rogue was taught to survive and this is how he got this far after all - playing different hands at once, manipulating as many people as he had to and most importantly ensuring he always got the better deal no matter what.

Wonder how Dunny's doing, Seth asked himself as his thoughts focused on the squadron leader with the funny accent. It was only a few days ago that the Wing Commander gave Sam a special briefing and ordered the man to leave on a special assignment. Of course Dunny was prohibited from saying anything about his mission - something that both ensured the mission's safety but also lowered Tuk'ata's morale. A necessary evil as the NHC explained...

Then again this hardly surprised Qorbin. His former squadron, the Nightshrike, was supposedly closed down as well - all of its members transferred to other squadrons. Well at least that was still half true, which was better than nothing. The part about certain members being transferred in order to sell the story was true alright. The part about Nightshrike being closed however... well that bit wasn't quite as authentic. The truth of the matter was that his former squadron was at that very moment being led by Dunny on a special assignment, one that the Empire couldn't afford to leak. Not just yet at any rate.

But as previously mentioned the Empire was hardly the only dishonest player around... Transferring Sayree Kazhos, a former Zygerrian slaver with clear questionable loyalties to Javelin Wing had raised quite a few eyebrows. Placing her as Tuk'ata's temporary Squadron Commander had raised even more. Qorbin knew this decision was poorly viewed by many of the higher ranking officers. He knew that should this not be a crisis he might've been forced to answer a few uncomfortable questions in front of a stuck up committee. As things stood however he was merely on thin ice, the wolves for the time being content just watching and waiting for his investment to blow up in his face.

To make matters worse Qorbin agreed with Sayree's decision to bring back Dyr'Jin into active service. This was a decision he was not comfortable with given the other man's questionable mental health but he figured it couldn't be all that bad. On one hand he was giving some leeway to his newly appointed Squadron Commander. On the other hand if Scral would prove unfit for duty then the coming shitstorm would take care of him sure enough.

A trial by fire - that's how Seth Qorbin chose to think of this whole situation. Should they be victorious in the coming conflict then they would all end up standing judgement. Seth for instance would be graded based on the performance of all the pilots in his care. The Zygerrian commander would be given yet another chance to prove her skills and thus prove herself an asset to the Empire. Scral would possibly be able to convince the skeptics that he deserves a spot on the active roster, flying once more for the glory of the Vast Empire.

The veteran pilots, should they survive that is, would take some more steps towards better ranks and positions - as befitting their proven skills. As for the rookies... survival alone should be a goal worth pursuing, as nothing save true combat can differentiate between those that know how to fly and those that can actually fly. No amount of theory, drills and simulations can possibly teach that.

So many possibilities... So many outcomes...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold copper eyes scanned the barracks and the few Imperial crewmen found inside. The despising stare belonged to Master Chief Sayree Kazhos, the Zygerrian female tasked to lead Tuk'ata Squadron - at least temporarily at any rate. The woman did nothing to hide her piercing gaze as she looked at the crewmen in question the same way a butcher would look at a piece of meat - pondering if and how he should cut it to better appeal to the prospective clients...

Pathetic. The remark stuck in her throat, not because she suddenly realized uttering it out loud would be rude or anything like that but rather simply because she did not believe it worth her effort to do so. She was raised to respect strength and while she sort of respected the Vast Empire as a whole she rather despised the individuals whom she mostly perceived as weak, some average at best.

The Near Human female also had plans of her own as far as the Vast Empire and her current assignment were concerned. She just waited for an opportunity to put some of them into action...

OOC:

WC: 1108AAR: Javelin's WC reveals being in the loop as far as the upcoming battle is concerned. He also reveals a few secrets that may provide answers as far as questions such as "what happened to Dunny?", "is NS really closed?", "who's leading Tuk'ata?". If you want to meet a brooding WC come bug him at his office - do try and have a good reason for it though And if you want to meet Tuk'ata's temporary NPC leader head on to the barracks and be prepared for the worst.

[This message has been edited by DeepSix
(edited March 11, 2012
4:55:04 AM)]

GreyComNet Marshal

[VE-NAVY] Captain (CAPT)

Post Number: 134
Total Posts: 558
Joined: Jun 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 4, 2012
8:38:54 PM

Location: UndisclosedTime: 12 Hours before the meeting at Abrae

The door to the office opened silently, letting the light from the corridor behind spill into the darkened room. A figure stepped through, casting a long shadow over the desk that was the office’s sole feature.

The being walked up to the steel-grey desk, running a hand along it as he circled around towards the chair on the far side. The smooth metal felt nice to his touch, and like the featureless uniform the being wore, it was a symbol of his new status and position.

He sat down, sinking into the bland and unimpressive chair behind the desk. There was no window behind him, no ornamentation. The room could be anywhere in the galaxy, and its simplicity belied its importance. He had only been in this office a handful of times since taking on this new role, and the place, like the position, still felt fresh and exciting to him.

He looked at the desk before him, with a small computer terminal, holo-projector, and a lamp being all that lay upon it. However, in sealed drawers beneath lay a plethora of datadiscs and other information storage devices. The drawers were reinforced and blast proof, the locks upon them keyed to the DNA of his skin. No one in the galaxy save he could access the secrets contained within.

Ah Trick, he mused, thinking of his predecessor, How could you have given this up?

Since assuming the position of Chief of Vast Empire Naval Intelligence, a.k.a. Captain Grey, he had done all he could to sort through the masses of data and information available to him. There was so much to learn, to study, and to analyse, but he had taken to it with a ravenous hunger, consuming data as others consumed food.

He had served as a VENI agent before, but now he was truly beginning to understand Intelligence’s role and function. Knowledge was power, he had heard that all his life, and now he felt powerful indeed.

Turning on the lamp so that he could see better in the dull office, he reached down to one of the drawers, grabbing the handle that would read his genetic signature and then pulling it open smoothly. Selecting one of the discs, he inserted it into the computer console, and brought up the latest reports from the other VENI agents (Or rather, from his agents) and began reading.

Top of the reports agenda was the continued data crunching on the splinter faction known as the Imperial Dominion. Begun under the previous Captain Grey, a team of slicers and data interpreters were carefully analysing money transfers, ship deployments, business deals, and other changes in the Dominion. Worse, it seemed that the Dominion were responsible for several assassinations and attacks on VEN officers, and VENI was still tracking down spies that the rival power may have in the Vast Empire (though some had already been identified and eliminated).

Clearly the rival power, led by the Warlord Drakan and theoretically the Vast Empire’s ally, were up to something, and the new Grey had already liaised with Naval High Command about a potential threat.

He was still pouring over the mass of data on the Dominion, and checking various possible explanations and scenarios, when he heard the door chime. “Enter,” He called firmly, lifting his eyes from the computer screen.

The person who now stepped through the doorway wore the same bland uniform as the being at the desk, and bore no outward sign of her subordinate rank. She was Ensign Grey, one of his adjutants. “Captain Grey, sorry to interrupt you sir, but we have an urgent message from one of our agents,” Said the woman.

Just hearing her call him by that name sent a thrill through him. “Thank you, Ensign, let’s see it,” Replied the Intelligence Chief.

She handed him the datapad, and he scanned his eyes down it. “Is this accurate?” He asked.

“One of our agents inside the Imperial Dominion has confirmed that it is possible,” Said the Ensign.

“Possible,” He reiterated, eyes narrowing.

“Sorry sir, but we have no-one high enough inside Warlord Drakan’s command to give us certain confirmation,” Apologised the VENI agent.

“We shall have to change that at some point,” Mused the Intelligence Chief. “Thank you for this, I shall notify Naval High Command immediately.”

The Ensign let herself out as Captain Grey activated his holo-projector and its highly secure line to the office of Vice-Admiral Stormz. It only took a few moments to connect, and the fearsome visage of the Wookiee Commander in Chief appeared before him.

“[What is it, Captain Grey?]” Demanded the head of the Vast Empire Navy, or rather, the translation that scrolled across Grey’s computer terminal indicated as much.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” Said Grey smoothly, “But I have more information regarding Warlord Drakan.”

The Wookiee’s face twitched at the name, for they had already spoken recently of this matter. “[Go on],” Urged the Vice-Admiral.

“The Dominion is getting ready to hit Abrae,” Said Captain Grey. “We have uncovered slicing efforts to access our communications grid, and traced it back to them. Combined with other intel gathered about them rebuilding their forces, I believe that an attack on our main forces stationed in the Vectra System is imminent.”

“[A bold conclusion for one so recently installed in their post],” Growled the other. At all times, all communications from Grey’s office to other people showed only garbled static, but Vice-Admiral Stormz was fully aware of who Captain Grey really was. “[Though you would never have been given the post if your predecessor did not think you worthy of it.]”

“True, sir,” Said Grey with confidence, though whether or not that confidence came through on the transmission he could not say. Not only was the image masked, but so was his voice, concealing his species and even gender. “I shall send you the relevant data immediately, of course, for you to review and reach your own conclusions.”

“[Do so],” Said the Vice-Admiral, “[And let’s see what Drakan is planning. Stormz out].”

The holo-projector shut down immediately as the transmission ended, and Grey sat back in his chair.

This was going to be a most interesting job...

OOC:

1044 words. I am the new Captain Grey.

AAR: Twelve hours before the start of the story, the new Grey is settling into his position. Acting on intel provided by his agents, he gives Vice-Admiral Stormz the information on Warlord Drakan and the Imperial Dominion.

Chief of Naval Intelligence

HadesComNet Initiate

[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class (PO2)

Post Number: 169
Total Posts: 1245
Joined: Nov 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 5, 2012
1:14:20 AM

Hades was walking - or rather, strolling - down the corridors of the Atrus en-route to the barracks of Tuk'ata. His hand were in the pockets of his uniform and his stride was casual, although his uniform was as crisply pressed and immaculate as ever. He had decided he would head to the barracks after much procrastination, and so was on his way when he was interrupted by a fast moving object, which bumped him as it tried to move past in the corridor, the same way Hades was going. Hades growled and turned, hearing a vague 'sorry' come from somewhere. Hades' eyes widened slightly as he saw the sweaty PO2 looking at him. Kathryn Kerdi.

"Ryn?!" Hades exclaimed, slightly bewildered by the chance encounter. She nodded tiredly, obviously exhausted from her gym workout. Hades had half a mind to reach out and hug her, but thought better of it.

"Hades.." she didn't quite exclaim, but replied happily, her expression brightening up somewhat. There was a silence wherein neither of them really knew what to say.. they both had a lot to talk about, but weren't really sure how to articulate it.

"So.. Tuk'ata, eh?" He broke the silence, referring to the closure of Nightshrike and the reassignment of himself to Tuk'ata.

"Figures.. I knew you couldn't go very long without me" Ryn joked, a joke that reminded them both of how it was when they were still flying together. Hades let out a complimentary chuckle and smiled.

"Well, the Navy figured that someone had to teach you how to fly." He responded in turn, his green eyes locking with hers. Her eyes contained a smile.. she was happy to see him, but something was bothering her. He made a note of it to ask her later what it was.

"Please." Ryn rolled her eyes sarcastically. "I wasn't the one who crashed a TIE interceptor."

"That was deliberate. Kamikaze and all that, y'know?" He grinned, and her expression showed that she believed not a word of his explanation. "So I hear there's a new Squadron Commander aboard.."

"Aye" Ryn nodded, indicating the barracks with her head. "I was on my way to see if she'd shown up yet."

"I hope not.." he muttered, mostly to himself. He wasn't really ready to go from being in Nightshrike to being an active subordinate to Tuk'ata. Ryn probably knew that and kept quiet. Hades gestured with his hand, indicating they should go. They set off at a leisurely pace again, both of them gazing forward. Now and then Hades would flick a glance at Ryn, examining her. She hadn't changed since he'd seen her last.

"Really well," she said with an enthusiastic smile, "but I still miss Nightshrike."

"Yeah.. we all do." He let out a slight sigh when he was once again reminded of Nightshrike's closure. Damn those High Command folk.. he cursed to himself for their closure of his former squadron. His thoughts were burst as Ryn nudged him.

"Tuk'ata ain't so bad" she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Hades graced her with a simple grunt, not caring to comment on his feelings about Tuk'ata. It wasn't Ryn's fault, and he was treating her more impersonally than he should have. After all, they were supposed to be friends. But Hades hadn't talked to anyone for a long time so he was a bit rusty in that department - coupled with his disapproval of the Nightshrike situation and perpetual cynicism, that the Petty Officer particularly unsociable. Ryn didn't take offence to it, but he could sense that she was slightly disgruntled by his lack of friendliness. He was almost certain that she was wondering whether she'd done something wrong or if it was her fault. It wasn't, of course, but Hades wasn't the type to open up his feelings when he was in a bad mood. Neither was he the type to discriminate between the people he snapped at. He tried to avoid snapping at his friends and superiors, but sometimes he couldn't control himself.

He'd heard of the new SC before and was almost certain that they would not get along. Given her past, Hades assumed she'd be self righteous and uptight, running the Squadron like a death camp. Authority was authority, and Hades couldn't get her fired.. but he'd be respectful of her. Smile to her face then rip the brakes out of her fighter, Hades thought. He wouldn't literally rip the brakes out of her fighter, but it was a metaphor for what Hades had in mind for the SC.. and this was even before he'd met her. The door to the Tuk'ata barracks slid open, and they stepped into a semi-darkened room. Scral - the veteran - sat in front of a datapad, doing something, while Ryuno sat on the other side of the room, her own datapad plugged into the wall.

And behind her stood the new SC. The Zygerrian. Hades did not know where Maroy was, but he wished she was here. She was equal rank to the SC.

"Tuk'ata!" The Master Chief barked. Scral and Ryuno got to their feet, and all present saluted. "What is going on here?" She demanded, her cold gaze looking at each and every one of them with poorly disguised contempt. Hades' lip almost curled, but he thought that might trigger an outburst on her part.

"Petty Officers Second Class Hades and Ryn reporting to the barracks, Master Chief" Hades ventured for himself and Ryn. He did not know what Scral and Ryuno were doing, but he assumed they'd explain themselves. He knew saying anything was a mistake, as the Zygerrian's gaze focused on him like the nasty end of a disruptor rifle. She walked over to him, inches away from the youthful face of his.

"Petty Officer Hades." She said each word with venom, as if Hades were her archnemesis. "If you're just now reporting to the barracks, where were you beforehand?"

"I was in the hangar, ma'am." Hades responded in clipped tones.

"And what were you doing in the hangar?" she inquired suspiciously, mainly seeking for a reason to berate the junior NCO.

"I was performing a scheduled check up on my TIE interceptor, ma'am." Hades responded without flinching.

"Isn't that the mechanics' job?" She struck again.

"I have experience in Starfighter Mechanic, Ma'am, and protocol states that every pilot must perform one check up or more on his or her starfighter, weekly." He could do this all day. The MCPO narrowed her eyes.

"Are you being insolent, Petty Officer?" she hissed.

"Negative ma'am." he kept his gaze focused straight, not avoiding her gaze but not catching it either. She kept her piercing gaze on Hades for a moment longer before realising that he had his arguments perfected. She would find fault with him later, and then he would pay for his insolence.

"I should hope not!" She snapped, before turning and stalking in front of Ryn. Hades swallowed, and the MCPO began again.

"And where were you before reporting to the barracks, Petty Officer Ryn?" She demanded once more.

"The gym, ma'am." Ryn responded tightly, knowing that the MCPO was seeking fault wherever she could find it.

"Why were you at the gym and not here?" the woman asked dangerously.

"Ma'am, regulations insist on pilot fitness-" Hades began for Ryn, but was cut off.

"PETTY OFFICER HADES, I did not ask you, I asked Ryn and you will remain silent until addressed further, am I clear?" She almost shouted at Hades.

"Crystal, ma'am" Hades responded tersely.

"Now then, Petty Officer Ryn, I ask again, why were you at the gym and not here?"

"I was working out, ma'am. Regulations insist on keeping pilots in top shape" She responded evenly, tone moderated.

"Did you receive authorisation from a superior officer?" The MCPO asked with narrowed eyes once more.

"Negative, ma'am. Regulations-"

"I don't care what the regulations insist, Petty Officer, unless you receive express permission from myself you will be here and not in the gymnasium, am I making myself perfectly clear to you?!"

"Yes ma'am." Ryn said through gritted teeth. Hades clenched his jaw, temper rising at the MCPO's blatant disrespect of the flight members. The MCPO nodded, having made her point, before turning back to Scral and Ryuno.

"And what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

Hades grimaced and offered a sympathetic glance at Ryn. He could see the fire in her eyes, and she could see the fire in his.

OOC:

Wordcount: 1,440.

AAR: Ryn and Hades meet up en-route to the barracks, pondering recent events and evaluating their freindship before meeting the new SC.. I get the impression Hades and Ryn won't get along too well with the Zygerrian

Okay, it wasn't Saturday evening like I'd hoped. An impromptu date kinda took over the evening. But here it is! Enjoy.

Also, please read through this real quick:

Please note that since this is a major story, After Action Reports (AAR) are required for all posts. An AAR is a few sentences in an OOC box at the end of your post giving a quick summary of the contents of the post. There should be ample examples of them to be found in the story already.

Also remember that each post's word count should be noted at the end of the post in an OOC box. This helps us track statistics and such that lead to rewards. So help us to help yourself!

The NHC meeting continued for some time as they hammered out the various major details of the coming battle. The thousands of minor details would be worked out by the officers and crew members under them in their respective areas, but the overall plan was relatively simple: Admiral Krazanr would command the defense from aboard the Atrus, while Drac would command the counter-attack that should crush the enemy forces between them. The discussion was cool and confident, but the Mon Calamari knew that the sheer scale of this battle weighed heavy on each of their minds...except, perhaps, Trykon's. For all Drac knew the man still had plans in place that would put his men unnecesarily in harm's way, CNI or not.

That thought, and others, weighed heavy on the Captain's mind as he exchanged nods with the other NHC members and turned to leave the NCC's office. The coming combat would test them all, and nothing could be worse in this situation than not trusting each other...but Drac just couldn't bring himself to trust the CNT. Trick had certainly lived up to his callsign and had gotten hundreds of Mihawk's men killed doing it. That was something he would not, could not, ignore. No mere apology could replace the ships and lives lost at Belgaroth.

Shaking his head to dispel his dark thoughts, the Mon Calamari Captain pulled out a datapad as he strode down the passage. Consulting it, he found a register of Vast Imperial ship captains and their priority comlink channels. Scrolling down as he turned a corner, he found the one he wanted and entered it into his datapad's comlink function. In a few moments the officer in question responded and the small holographic figure of a Twi'lek woman in Imperial officer's uniform appeared and saluted, "Commander Tri'shaven reporting."

Drac returned the salute, "At ease. Commander, please mobilize the Binder and her escorts. Announce a training exercise to Atrus flight control and depart along the course I'm transmitting to you. Follow the course changes, per standard anti-tracking measures, and head to the rendezvous coordinates. You'll be given further orders upon arrival." He tapped an icon to transmit the information he'd assembled during the meeting to her and waited a moment for her to recieve it.

"Understood, sir. We'll be on our way within the hour."

"Very good. Mihawk out."

Changing to a more familiar channel, Dracule opened another connection. Moments later Serpent appeared in the holo, "Yes, Captain?"

"Mr. Zail. Please see the data I'm transmitting to you. Priority ship movements have already been mapped, but you'll need to see that the remaining ships receive proper direction. Space out departure of the faux patrol groups appropriately within the next twelve hours and see to it that a schedule of arrival times at the rendezvous point is drawn up."

"Aye, sir. It will be done. Standard communications blackout?"

"Exactly."

"I'll see to it, sir. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I'm returning to the Warrior as we speak. Please recall any personnel currently off-ship and begin preparations to leave the system. Weapons and ammunition, medical supplies, and damage control supplies and equipment should all be topped off. The same goes for our escorting taskforce."

"Estimated time until departure?"

"Three standard hours."

~~~

Captain Dracule "Drac" Mihawk glanced briefly to watch another grouping of ships snap into view as they dropped out of hyperspace. The new ships cruised forward slowly as Drac heard one of his Communications officers contact them. Good. Things were running smoothly. Before he looked back down at his datapad he noted that the ships were the Acrimonious and the Trenchant and their escorts. The two were Strike-class medium cruisers outfitted for planetary assaults and modified (slightly) to be used against ships. If the Imperial Dominion was coming against the Vast Empire Navy's home base, they'd be bringing major capital ships and a lot of them. Drac smirked. He didn't just want to beat them like a Quarren sneak-thief caught with a hand in the coffers. No, he'd beat them and steal some of their best ships while he was at it.

Ten galactic standard hours had passed since the NHC meeting and the scheduled time of attack for the Imperial Dominion was nearing...only eight hours away now. The various ships of his fleet were gathering here, in a barren patch of empty space no one had likely ever bothered to visit. Meanwhile, other ships were still arriving at Abrae, making the system a relative frenzy of activity that was making the local media go nuts. While it was clear that something was up, Drac had been careful to ensure it looked like the VEN was staging to leave for an assault- not to fight a major defensive battle. He'd heard that an anchor on one of the major news networks had indicated that it actually would be a defensive battle...he'd also heard that the woman and her camera crew were currently guests of the new Chief of Naval Intelligence, along with her informer within the Naval command structure. Loose lips would blow the operation and scare the ID off. And, well, past a certain point the idiot media ought to know better. They had endangered hundreds or thousands of lives. For that there would be consequences.

For a moment Drac wondered whether it was hypocritical to be so concerned about his own men -so angry at Trykon for wasting their lives- while dismissing the probable fate of the anchorwoman and her coworkers. Then there were the hundreds he’d exterminated to the last man at Escrutiod Eleven and the various pirate groups he’d utterly devastated at one time or another under the MCK’s orders. After considering it for a moment, he shrugged. Some might see it that way- heck, someday he might even end up on trial for one of those actions or another like them. But that was a future maybe. The present certainty was that he had soldiers to command and care for, and he would do everything in his power to make sure they did their jobs and walked away alive. All those other groups he might concern himself with also had commanders in his position. And if they couldn’t keep their people alive, that was no current in his sea. He wasn’t here to coddle the enemy, but to kill them.

Before looking back at the holographic projection of battle formations, the Mon Calamari took a moment to look out and survey the prow of the Halcyon Warrior extending far out in front of him. How strange that he should find himself in command of so mighty a vessel, and how much stranger still that he should be comfortable with it. Yes, this would be a battle like none other. But he’d taken the Warrior through her paces several times over now. He knew the ship and her crew, and was confident in both. Drills since Belgaroth had improved firing efficiency and accuracy by 5% and damage control and emergency repair functions were up nearly 10%. That would be crucial. Excellent damage control would keep the ship moving and fighting through damage that seemed impossible.

~~~

“Captain Mihawk!”

Drac’s head snapped up and he rolled one eye to look at the Reconnaissance and Surveillance officer who’d addressed him, “Yes, Warrant Officer?”

“Sir. Enemy forces are arriving in the Vectra system. The anchor of their fleet appears to be a group of Imperial-II Star Destroyers, numbers unconfirmed but upwards of half a dozen and still rising. And…oh…Emperor’s black bones…”

The shock in the man’s voice stilled everyone on the bridge. There was a beat of silence before Drac spoke again. “Well? What is it?!?” he demanded.

“I…it’s big, sir. It’s kriffing big. I don’t know, Captain.” Drac strode over to look at the man’s console, Serpent a stride behind him. The profile of the ship in the center of the ImpStar Deuce formation was fuzzy, the computers not offering a wealth of information on it. Drac grimaced at the oversight of having only loaded parameters for ships the Imperial Dominion had previously used into the combat computers.

The computers might not know what it was, but he did. He recognized the profile of every major Imperial capital ship type- it was his job, after all. His voice was calm and precise when he spoke after examining it for a brief moment, “That is an Allegiance-class Super Star Destroyer. A rare ship. Several times larger than the Warrior, but not quite in the Atrus’s weight class.”

The Mon Cal was silent for a second while he considered the enemy flagship, then he spoke, “Mr. Zail. Get me a full roster of every ship of capital class in that fleet. Number of each type, names if possible. Also find someone to dig that schematics of an Allegiance-class out of the files and upload them to every combat computer in the fleet. Lastly , find that new Intelligence liaison and ask him why in the name of the Sith did VENI not know about this ahead of time.

“Everyone else: Get the fleet in final formation and oriented toward Vectra. Tell the Binder to get in close behind our ImpStar Deuces and to make kriffing sure they keep us between that Allegiance-class and themselves. Also, tell the captains of the Acrimonious and the Trenchant this: I want that ship. Go get it for me- the Admiral needs a present.”

Pausing for a moment and shaking off the reticence he felt, Drac added, “Also tell the Surprise to go in with them. Our Stormies and Marines may need the extra troops to subdue that monster.” Closing his eyes for an instant, the amphibian scanned the major things to be done. They were all being taken care of. Opening them again, he took a deep breath of the dry, metallic scented air of the ship and felt the thrumming of her massive engines through the soles of his feet, “Get to it, people. We enter hyperspace five minutes after my mark…mark.”

OOC:

Word Count: 1,769

After Action Report: Drac finishes up the NHC meeting and makes arrangements to have a fleet of ships meet the Halcyon Warrior out in space. (If you’re not on the Atrus, you’re with Drac.) Included among them are the Binder, an Immobilizer-418 class interdictor cruiser and the Acrimonious and Trenchant, two Strike-class cruisers set up to initiate large-scale boarding of large capital ships and filled with Storm Troopers and naval Marines. The enemy finally arrives and Drac’s fleet makes final preparations to jump back into the Vectra system to do battle.

Orders: If you’re with my group, react to the events of my post but don’t record any combat yet. We’re still out in space. (Serpent, I’ll get with you shortly on a few things.) If you’re on the Atrus, your party just started. Feel free to point out individual fighter squadrons and small enemy ships to target or defend against. A definitive list of major capital ships involved should be out soon.

The multi-leveled floor of the Defense Room shone dully in the dim light radiated from the various consoles where officers worked. The walls, completely covered in buttons, dials, switches, and screens, surrounded the nine Defense officers: three shield technicians, four damage control officers, one communications/sensors officer, and one brutal commander with a booming authority and iron fist. He was not one to be reckoned with.

On the higher platform of the room were three half-circle control stations. Behind these were the commanders of each defense station, and the Defense commander: Xerina "Keplar" Flael of Damage Control, Frendin "Free" Ketchar of Shield Operation, and Feren "Latency" Olus, the commander of it all. Down a few steps were the rest of the crew. On the right, three Damage Control Officers: Owen "Flare" Robinson, Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran, and Zaek "Macro" Forcewell. And on the left, were the two shield technicians: Tim "Raging" Plen and Zomba "Lightning" K'yek. All by himself between the two defense staff's was Ulfric "Windhelm" Stormcloak, the communications officer.

The room was quiet, the steady huming of the consoles and control stations making the only significant noise. Xerina (who will now be mentioned as Keplar) leaned back in her chair, clearly bored by the lack of activity.

And without warning, Windhelm, the communications officer, blurted out, "An enemy fleet has entered the system in sector 559B!"

"Actually," Windhelm butted in, "we do. I've just received the details of the enemy fleet, and..." He paused for a moment as a look of shock, terror, and surprise crept up onto his face. "They've got an Allegiance ship. A Super Star Destroyer!" Suddenly, something beeped on his console. He pressed a button, listened for a moment, and added, "The rest of the First Fleet is en route to our position. We'll have back up shortly."

"Alright!" Latency boomed, "Let's get to work."

Echelon, who had known this was coming, was prepared for battle. He turned back around to his console, and began to read the displays. On one of the consoles, a 3d model of the Mid-ship was shown, and soon, it would show any damage and enemy ships at that position as well. At another display above his head, he saw electrical power, air supply, pressure, and gravity meters for his section of the ship. If he wanted a more in depth view, he could select a smaller portion of the ship and receive readouts of that.

A moment later, Lightning, the ray shield technician added, "The Ray shields are having a little trouble powering up...but they're gaining power. At 45% right now."

"What is the problem?" the shield commander, Free asked.

"I'm not exactly sure, myself, but perhaps it is-"

Echelon, a certified Naval engineer, felt obligated to but in and state the problem. "It must be a temporary power exchange spike in the reactor power relay matrix. If the deflector shields were booted up quickly, it would cause the spike thus slow down the power build up feed for the ray shields."

They all looked at him in stunned silence. "I received my engineer certification a few weeks ago...I had to fix the same problem..."

With that brief explanation, they all returned to their consoles and displays.

"Fighters!" Windhelm shouted, "Coming in!"

Echelon checked his readout. He saw several red dots moving around in his area. They, to his surprise, he saw a small damage dot. Turning his headset on, he commed the deck officer for the damaged location.

"This is Damage Control Officer Echelon," he began, "my readouts say that you just received damage from a TIE fighter. I'm just checking because it doesn't seem likely. Is this true?"

A moment later, over the crackly static of the radio, the officer replied, "Frak, is it true! I saw it with my own damn eyes! A missile smashed right into the hallway! Luckily, we sealed it off quickly!"

How could a missile get through, we have our shields up...

Then it hit him, like the missile hitting the hallway. The ray shields were not up yet, thus they couldn't protect the ship from physicall attacks, like missiles.

He closed the transmition, and called back, "Lightning! How long till our ray shields are up?!"

"About a minute or two, but I'm trying as hard as I can."

"The enemy is realizing it, and they're beginning to hit us hard with missiles!"

Turning back to his station, he quickly checked the damage. Nothing major, but small little blips where the missiles hit were popping up.

"We're at 95% now!"

Echelon, realizing how he could make it go faster, rushed over to Lightning's station.

"Move over, I'm going to try and feed 110% more power per second to the generator," he said, rapidly pressing buttons and switches.

"You can't do that!"

"Nah, it'll be fine. 110% won't kill it. Trust me, I've seen engineers to 150% in times of danger."

Lightning shook her head. "No, I meant that you won't be able to do that. You need a reactor clearance."

"That's where my engineer cert come in handy!" He inputted the clearance password, and a moment later, the console displayed that the ray shield was booting up even faster.

"Echelon!" Free yelled, realizing what he was doing, "Mind your own station, for the love of the Galaxy!"

"Free, I was saving people's lives by making that move. Those missiles are hitting us hard!" Echelon rebutted, becoming angry at Free's order.

The Twi'lek stood off by herself in the hangar, her gaze focused on some distant point past the glowing azure forcefield. Her lekku twitched restlessly, waiting. She strained her eyes for any sign of an Interceptor cockpit, but against the darkness of space it was impossible to make out almost anything at range.

"Dang it, Cayden, where are you?"

Her fiance had finally been convinced to rejoin the Vast Empire's Navy with her, albeit with a secondary agenda for furthering Bimmiel's cause. She'd been readmitted with a minimum of hassle, but the higher-ups had decided to detain him to do some background checks before putting him back on active duty. He'd managed to wrangle a temporary job with Abrae's planetary defense forces, though, and was planning on stopping by after his patrol rotation finished.

That was five hours ago.

She sighed. He probably just ran into more red tape. With the fleet practically in battle readiness, I can imagine there's a lot of regulations being enforced a bit more than usual. Speaking of which, I should go check on the squadron.

Yawning, she turned and wandered out of the hangar. She made sure to double-check every turn she made against her datapad's map, and managed to find the barracks again with minimal incident.

The first thing she noticed when she walked in was what she assumed to be the new squadron commander yelling at Scral and Naomi. The negative feelings were palpable, making her lekku shudder. Hades and Ryn were standing off to the side, glaring at the new SC's back. This can't be good.

"And what do you two have to say for yourselves?"

Naomi answered first. "I'm finishing my patrol report, ma'am."

The Zygerrian stared icily at the pilot. "I expect you'll devote your full attention to the task, Crewman."

The human woman averted her gaze, nodded meekly, and went back to silently filling out her report.

The SC turned to Scral, still apparently unaware of Maroy's entry. "And you! What do you have to say for yourself?"

The man merely shook his head, still too caught up in his thoughts to give an intelligent answer.

"Answer me, you-"

The Twi'lek decided it was time to step in, whatever the consequences. "Leave him alone." The other alien pivoted around to stare daggers at her, forcing out an involuntary "Ma'am."

"Ma'am, Trimic here has been through some very traumatic experiences lately. He might not seem completely sane, but he's one of the best where it actually counts- on the battlefield."

"Hmph." She snorted, and was about to start berating Maroy when alarms began going off all over the place. The SC immediately grabbed her comlink in anticipation of a message, and wasn't disappointed.

"Looks like Dyr'Jin will have plenty of opportunities to prove himself. We're being attacked by a massive Imperial Dominion force." She motioned toward the door, barked "Move!", and the squadron began filing out as quickly as they could. Maroy walked out last, out of earshot of the other MCPO.

She allowed herself one particularly venomous glare at the other alien. "Schutta."

Once they were all marching speedily toward the hangar, she took a second and counted heads. They were still missing one...

There he was. The new squadron Executive Officer. She hadn't even bothered to learn his name. Then again, she hadn't had much of a chance between his visits to the somewhat-less respectable establishments on the Atrus.

The SC grabbed him roughly and barked a few questions at him. The man seemed disoriented. Great. We're flying with a hungover pilot.

OOC:

WC:617AAR: Maroy heads back to the barracks and finds the squadron at odds with their new SC. She openly defends Scral, and her punishment is deferred due to the imminent Dominion attack. They head off toward the hangar.

Around 10 minutes had passed since the encounter with the MCPO in the barracks. It had left Hades fuming and so far unable to retaliate. She was two grades his senior in rank, and four positions above him the Naval Hierarchy. Direct retaliation was out of the question. But he would retaliate. Time would see all things come to fruition. Patience would pass that time. Hades smiled inwardly as he powered up his starfighter, before settling down, his mind focused on the battle to come. He had been in his TIE just seconds after the call for all pilots was made, even before the SC who was seconds behind Hades. No doubt she would use this as a reason to chew out Hades. Hades' expression darkened as he listened to the Tuk'ata chatter over his comm.

"Tuk'ata seven is ready to go." Hades interjected. A curt response came from the commander, indicating her displeasure with Hades. Of course, she probably used the same tone with everyone else. She lead the way out of the hangar as Tuk'ata was given the green light to launch, Hades forming up with his wingmate - Maroy - and noting the formation of the other Tuk'ata members. As expected, the dour squadron commander sped ahead of them, indubitably eager to take the glory from the field and with no intention to share. Hades' fighter drifted left slightly, leaving the Zygerrian in his sights.. Hades narrowed his eyes and glared at the fighter, willing it to blow up, before correcting his course.

Hades checked his sensors - he could see, in the distance, a formation of enemy ships surrounding what appeared to be a super-star-destroyer. Hades' eyes widened slightly, with a faint utterance of 'kriff' as the 26th Vast Imperial Squadron sped toward the oncoming bombers. Obviously the enemy intended to hit the Atrus, and hit it hard. They were to prevent that from happening. Hades growled as the SC interrupted his thoughts, a meditation of sorts that calmed him in battle.

"I'll be honest, I don't have confidence in this rag-tag squadron" The MCPO's venomous tone cut through the steady howl of the TIE. "But unfortunately, you're all I've got. If you slip up, it'll be your fall and probably your wings. We're picking up 4 squadrons of bombers heading toward the Atrus and a dozen or so squadrons of various fighters. I'm your Squadron Commander, don't forget it because when I order something, I expect you to do it, NO QUESTIONS ASKED."

The transmission cut abruptly, leaving them slightly bewildered by the SC's outburst. Hades' resentment for the Zygerrian merely grew. She wasn't exactly an inspiring leader. Hades narrowed his eyes and flew straight, his fighter humming confidently. Hades checked his scopes again - the fleet was still entering the system, and Hades could see the Atrus, but wondered where the Halcyon Warrior was, as other prominent capital ships forming up into task forces and formations. The sensors identified the enemy as Imperial Dominion. Ha, Hades thought ironically of the simulator he was running just hours before.

If the fleet had been moving before, that meant that Naval High Command knew about the attack beforehand. If so, why did they not let fighters know.. It then occurred to Hades that there would be leaks within the enlisted and perhaps even within the officer corps, so making the knowledge readily available to all the members of the VEN was undoubtedly imprudent. Of course they'd thought about it. They were the High Command for a reason, and it wasn't because they made rash or unwitting decisions. Hades had to learn if he were ever to advance in the VE hierarchy.

Of course, he'd been promoted, but he was still a flight member and therefore no more able to change things than he was when he was just a Senior Crewman. At least he commanded somewhat more respect after the events of Brinlik, and his opinion carried more weight than before.. especially now that he'd earned the CBV, MC1 and CAR.. Hades always did like shinies, and the VE had almost - not quite - quenched his thirst relative to that. But Hades was ambitious, and he'd always be trying for more.

Despite his ambition, Hades was loyal, and even if the SC was a complete nerf herder, Tuk'ata was now his squadron and the closest thing Hades had to a family. He wouldn't let his ambition override his sense of loyalty. The only pilot that had so far proved herself worthy of Hades' loyalty was Ryn, but the other pilots - the Zygerrian aside - seemed like good enough people and Hades respected most of them. His thoughts were interrupted by a squawk from his Comm. It was Maroy.

"Hades, I know you've distinguished yourself as a pilot, but trust me when I say I have more experience. We need to work together" She said over the comm, not unkindly, but more helpfully. Hades was not unreasonable and he recognised she was probably the best pilot there. He nodded to himself before responding to her.

"Understood, Master Chief. Lead the way" Hades had really put himself on the line with that last comment, meaning that he would follow her authority. Hades did not often place himself under others' command.

"Alright.. this should be a milk run" she said, confidently and evidently intended to inspire confidence in Hades. It was successful, to a point, but her tone was relieved. She had obviously been worried about Hades being a lone wolf, or some other type of unfriendly, unreasonable person. Hades clicked his comm once in acknowledgement and turned his eyes forward. Forces were gathering, amassing on either side like behemoths, impossible to guess who would extend the first blow to the other side. Hades hoped it would be the Vast Empire, because he sure as hell wanted vaporise some enemy. He blinked as their formation headed - supported by other VE squadrons - toward the approaching fighters.

Hades primed his lasers and grinned.

OOC:

Wordcount: 1,011

AAR: Hades gets into his fighter and flies toward the enemy. There are a few bomber and fighter squadrons en-route to attack the Atrus, and Nightshrike Tuk'ata ( ) has been tasked to take them out. The Zygerrian SC inspires more resentment for her, and Hades pondered shooting her himself.

[This message has been edited by Hades
(edited March 5, 2012
9:01:13 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Hades
(edited March 5, 2012
10:49:13 PM)]

RyunoComNet n00b

[VE-NAVY] Leading Crewman (LCRW)

Post Number: 24
Total Posts: 29
Joined: Feb 2012
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 6, 2012
3:32:48 AM

The Academy had made the standard pre-flight checklist pertaining to a TIE Interceptor next to second nature, and for good reason: When the Atrus found herself under fighter attack, Naomi had been just as quick to get out of the hangar as the more experienced pilots of Tuk’ata Squadron, and had dropped into formation without giving much thought to the same. Her mind was, as it had been of late, on the Squadron- Particularly on Dunny’s borderline-terrifying replacement.

Naomi’s thoughts were disturbed by the voice of the aforementioned terrifying replacement into the speaker in her helmet; ”... this should be a milk run.”

Naomi smiled, vaguely, as she brought herself into a subtle course correction that would drop her onto Ryn’s outside wing. Immediately following, she consulted her sensor relay. IFF tags relayed the craft staring them down as Imperial Dominion. Naomi’s brow furrowed. She didn’t readily recognize the tag- Perhaps she had heard of or read about them somewhere and simply didn’t recall? Either way ...

Her fighter lurched, slipping back somewhat out of formation as she proceeded to divert power from her engines to power the warhead launchers mounted to the ‘chin’ of her Interceptor’s cockpit. She glanced out of the front window just long enough for a visual correction and to verify that she was completely, and particularly well clear of Ryn’s wing before turning her eyes to and focusing on her targeting computer.

She cycled targets calmly and steadily as the two fighter groups approached. A chime told her that her current target, the lead of one of the bomber squadrons, was inside of the launcher’s maximum range. She waited in patient silence for the forthcoming missile lock. The steady beeping of her targeting computer escalated into a solid, steady tone and the screen itself lit a brilliant crimson. Her left thumb found, and subsequently depressed the launcher’s ignition switch. Her Interceptor kicked slightly and her cockpit reverberated with a solid metallic thump that was her portside launcher discharging a single concussion missile, and that left it ringing for some time after. She glanced from the targeting computer to the forward viewport as the missile’s propulsion system took hold and blasted the projectile away from its launcher. Once the missile was well enough away, she powered down the launch tubes and reset the engine’s throttle to keep pace with the squadron, in addition to diverting some of the power used for the missile system to her laser cannons and switching weapon control to said laser cannons.

Though targeted for the Lead of the foremost bomber squadron, the lone concussion missile veered off target and rammed headlong into another member of the tight formation, which vanished silently into a blossom of flash-frozen fuel and suffocating flame. Other members of other squadrons on both sides had apparently loosed missiles as well, as the Vectra system’s space seemed to suddenly erupt with ion trails and the explosions of dying fighter craft. There wasn’t even time for Naomi to be yelled at for releasing a missile without order to fire ... Or really anything to be said on it for that matter before they were upon the Dominion and the latter upon them.

Almost as soon as the formations broke and clashed, Naomi had picked up an Interceptor and was forced, for a moment, on the evasive. She drew a small portion of power from her laser cannons to add additional push to the engines for a short measure more speed, as she pitched into a dive to take herself out of the path of the opposing fighter’s cannons, but another cannon lock was annoyingly close behind- And at this point a flurry of shots honed in on Naomi’s Interceptor, overshooting originally ... But a couple scored glancing hits that seemed to simply bounce off of her shields, but she couldn’t stop to diagnose ... The pitching about of her fighter made it feel as if far more damage was being done than probably was, just as the fact that she was being shot at made it feel as if there were more shots fired than there actually were.

Naomi pitched her fighter evasively again, at this point almost coming fully about to put herself on approach of her attacker, but she would undershoot. Simultaneously, she keyed her comm., and spoke while she had a coherent moment. Her voice sounded more annoyed than distressed, as her new friend was keeping right up with her. “I’d be very grateful if someone would clear my-“ She broke off as her Interceptor bucked again ... But not from fire, this time. Rather what had tossed her had been the blast-wave of the nearby Interceptor being swept clean by cannon fire.

Only two words responded to her broken query, and she couldn’t quite place the voice that had spoken them. ”You’re welcome.”

OOC:

WC: 808

Not my best but it’ll have to do for tonight.

AAR: Naomi gets into space and catches her first taste of starfighter combat. Also, a kill.

I'm told that my mind is a restless nomad with goldfish characteristics.

Orvek "Cold-Wind" Teruq watched intently at his console, the dim glow from the screen illuminating his face and embelishing the curves and ridges with a paint of shadow. On his dimly lit console, a red dot slowly moved across the screen, and exited out the side. As it left, he zoomed out to continue watching its path. Wondering what it was, he scratched his head. Clearly, it couldn't be a ship, so what was it? His face lit up when he realized what it was: an asteroid. Of course, asteroids weren't uncommon in the area around the Atrus, but on his screen, they were. He was an Electromagentic and Radiation Sensors Officer, meaing he detected any electromagentic and radiation waves, usually emmited by ships and man-made structures. Though, ateroids usually didn't emit these waves which was why it was odd. Perhaps there was some radioactive material in the space rock. Perhaps Uranium.

His job as an Electromagnetic and Radiation Sensors Officer was to be the eyes of the ship. Though, he wasn't limited to the radiation and electromagnetic spectrum. Each sensors console had the capability of tapping into any kind of sensor array, and they were trained in the basic readings of all sensors. Though, they usually chose a specialty and became an expert in reading what their specialty was. Cold-Wind had chosen Electromagnetic and Radiation because it was a big job, and the training courses were long. You really had to be an expert to become that kind of sensors officer.

Suddenly, a red light flashed on his control station, notifying him that another radiation source had been detected. He flipped to sector 66b and his heart skipped a beat at what he saw. There, on his screen, was a multitude of red dots, trails, and blobs. An indication of an unidentified fleet.

"Chief," Cold-Wind called to the chief sensors officer, "I've detected a large unidentified fleet of ships."

The Chief, and middle aged man who was a complete genius at sensors, briskly walked over to the console.

"By the Galaxy," he calmly stated, "that is a large fleet." Turning towards the other sensor officers he added, "Can I get a visual?"

A moment later, the visual sensors officer pointed to his display. There, the chief saw to be a large Imperial fleet, and by the ship signatures, it was Dominion. Immediately, he called up to the captain of the ship, a certain Stormz. The Commander of the Navy, and a large, hairy wookie.

The Captain, who surprisingly looked unsurprised, nodded and began issuing orders to his various crewmembers.

Cold-Wind, who was slightly dazed by the sudden events, turned back to his console, prepared to detect any enemy fleet movements. At first, he saw no movement from the capital ships, but then, the small radiation signatures from the incoming TIEs were picked up, and he saw a multitude of red dots all flying very rapidly toward the ship!

"TIEs coming in," he called out, not sure if anyone heard him. They would find out in a moment anyway.

Flipping a switch, he engaged a computer program that would count the radiation signatures and give the appropriate amount of TIEs that it detected. He cringed as he watched the numbers go up, and then suddenly, without any warning, the screen flickered and his program shut down. Reading the displays, he saw that the primary sensors array had been slightly damaged. Not damaged enough to stop the entire readout, but it would effect long range scanning. Not that that would be a problem any time soon.

What the frak?! The shields must be up by now! Damn Defense! They never get anything right!

Restarting his program, he began to turn dials, trying to get the focus just right. This would calculate how far the TIEs were from the ship, very essential if you were a gunner. On his display, he zoomed out, and rotated his view, trying to get a better picture of what was happening. Every now and then, he would see bursts of energy (really bursts of red dots), and then they would die down. Most likely the turbolaser cannons.

Though, it would be interesting to get a visual...

As he flipped a switch, his screen changed, showing an infrared view from the top of the bridge tower. In the middle of the picture was the huge main body of the ship. It stretched for kilometers and kilometers. On the surface were thousands of buildings, alcoves, and square like bodies. The entire ship was massive, and it was truly remarkable that something like this could be built. Then, in the awe and amazement, he began to make out TIE fighters. Some were chasing each other, others were in wedge formations. Then, right in front of the camera, he saw a TIEs green lasers slash through another TIE, causing the latter to disperse into a multicolored fireball. He turned off the screen in horror and repulsion.

I...I just watched someone get killed...

Though, he didn't care who it was. Vast Empire or Dominion. It was a person. With a family. With feelings. With emotions. Just like him...

He felt his face, and to his surprise, he felt a little wetness.

Am I crying? Come on Orvek! You're a soldier! You joined to fight. No...that's not true. You joined to do something you loved: sensors. You could have just as easily been on the ground, but no...you wanted to support your local government. Well killing isn't for you! I'm going to leave this killing hole as soon as I can! But first, I need to return to my duties...

He turned the screen back on, but returned to his electromagnetic and radiation view. As he zoomed back in on the Dominion fleet, his computer calculated that they were getting closer. Much closer, and too close for comfort.

"Sir," he said, his voice a bit cracky, "The capital ships are closing in."

"About time," the chief said, "I've been meaning to get to the meat of this battle."

Of course, he wasn't the one who just saw someone get killed...

OOC:

Word Count: 1,031. I've decided that along with Echelon's post, I'm going to do a series of NPC posts are regarding the different positions on a capital ship. This one was for sensors, the next might be a medical officer, then helms man, then communications officer, then gunner (I've been wanting to do this one a lot!), etc, etc. I hope you all like the post!

Wyl Trykon watched as his new Executive Officer - Petty Officer 2nd Class Michele "Ellesmere" Blondeau - folded primly into the chair on the other side of his desk, betraying her nervousness with fidgeting hands and an unwillingness to look him in the eye. The Kuati ship captain stifled a sigh. Ever since the secret of his brief tenure as Chief of Naval Intelligence had been leaked, everyone looked at him differently. Some - especially those in the know - praised him for making hard choices and for crafting a successful long-term strategy, but others - like Drac, who'd lost friends as a result of those choices and that strategy - cursed him as a soulless bean counter, wasting sentient lives without care. Most, though, didn't know how to react - including Ellesmere.

As part of his cover, Trykon had maintained an office at the Naval Academy on Station Cappadocious the entire time he'd been the Chief of the VENI, and naturally he'd gotten to know many of the Academy's training officers. Ellesmere had always impressed him as a stable, competent presence. But now, she seemed nervous... almost flighty.

It's not all about you, he chastised himself. Remember her service record: it's been a long time since she served in a frontline unit, and even then, she got her start in the Starfighter Corps. She's probably more worried about leading people into battle successfully than your cloak-and-dagger exploits!

"Relax, Ms. Blondeau," Trykon said amiably, finally catching the Petty Officer's hazel eyes with his own grey-green ones. "You're going to be a fine Executive Officer."

"Thank you sir," she said, unconvinced.

Well, Trykon thought, this is why you chose her, he reminded himself. She needs seasoning and command experience, and the rest of your people are good enough that you can afford to train up an XO, despite any confidence problems.

"You had a chance to get acquainted with the ship's specifications, with our current configuration and modular load-out?"

"Aye sir," she replied, much more readily. Trykon gestured for her to continue, and she did: "Surprise has been outfitted for Aerospace Superiority. We have three full squadrons aboard. Shock and Awe, equipped with TIE Interceptors, are racked in the port and starboard hangars, respectively. The third squadron - Smash - is spread evenly between the two main hangars and the forward docking bay, and they're flying TIE Bombers. Their lead flight up in the forward bay shares hangar space with our complement of boarding craft and shuttles. We're optimized to engage enemy starfighters and capital ships in open battle."

"Well summarized, Ms. Blondeau," Trykon said, nodding with approval. He paused, waiting for her to go further and demonstrate the kind of deductive reasoning and boldness of speech which had initially impressed him in his previous first officer. But Ellesmere wasn't Serpent: if she had any guesses about what their load-out suggested they'd be doing in the mission to come, she kept them to herself. It just takes time, Trykon told himself. We just need time to get to know each other in these roles. "Well summarized indeed," he muttered, before pushing back his chair and standing up. The junior officer sprung to her feet as well. "Welcome aboard, Ms. Blondeau. Dismissed."

She returned his salute smartly, and left.

Trykon looked around his spartan quarters. "Well," he said to the empty room, "maybe she'll surprise me yet, eh, Surprise?"

As if in answer, the lights suddenly dimmed, and an alert klaxon blared from the corridor outside. His personal comm beeped, and when he picked it up he heard his new XO speaking calmly: "Captain Mihawk has ordered us to come alongside the Halcyon Warrior and jump away, sir. We're in formation with his task force, and ready."

It's beginning, then, Trykon thought. But all he said aloud was, "Well done, Ms. Blondeau. Signal that we're good to go, complete the jump with the rest of the task force, and I'll meet you on the bridge in a moment."

"Aye, Captain." The comm clicked off, leaving him alone again.

"If they thought Belgaroth was bad..." he whispered to himself, thinking of the projections he'd seen for the coming battle, and trailing off into silence. He frowned, and then paced out of the room, making his way to the command deck, where he would face just a few more hard choices, before seeing the culmination of all his strategy.

OOC:

735 words. Mostly some CD with Trick and Ellie, but I also threw in some exposition about the configuration Surprise is using for this story: no gravity well module, and an extra squadron equipped with Bombers (that's 3 Squadrons total - Shock, Awe, and Smash).

AAR: Before the battle starts, and even before Drac and his force jumps away from Abrae, the CO and XO of Surprise meet, and size each other up.

MSE-6 droid 555B (also known as Stanley) zipped along the hallway at its fast, efficient pace. Its four wheeles lightly rolled across the cold floor, giving it the stunted height of 25 centimeters, and its box like body seemingly floated across the floor, for its tiny wheeles were barely seen at the height of a human. A shiny fresh black paint coated the exterior of the small droid, implying that this droid was fresh out of the factory. Regardless of the mouse droid's looks, it sped along the hallway, travelling to where it would perform its first task, and the only kind of task it was programmed to do: repair.

As soon as it was known that a small circuit had blown in hallway 5C-884, the mouse droid had been activated and sent off to fix the problem. General technicians would be able to repair the damaged circuit, but with a battle raging outside the hull, they had bigger things to fix. Nevertheless, this little droid shouldn't be underestimated. With a set of various tools, it could repair anything small that was thrown at it. 555B (and mouse droids in general) were handy to have around.

The mouse droid zipped around a corner, almost running into a male officer. Clearly frightened by the man (as mouse droids were very vulnerable, thus they were programmed to be frightened easily), the droid squealled out its speakers, briefly turned around, and swivered away from the towering figure. Turning back around the bend, it waited for the man to pass before continuing along its route. The man, who didn't think anything of the 555B, walked steadily along his path.

After a moment of quick travel, the mouse droid arrived at its location. Using its connection to the ship's main computer, it opened a small hatch in the wall, and entered inside. Inside the wall was a narrow accesss route for mouse droids. 555B rolled for a few feet before finding the circuit stappled to the wall.

The droid popped out a soddering gun, and began to melt the damaged copper. The metal bubbled, and when 555B stopped, it hardened back to fix the circuit. A moment later, electricity was running through it, and it was fully operational.

Then, just as things were looking good for the little robot, a large crack was heard, and the floor shook violently. A moment later, a large plume of smoke was flowing into the hallway, and the air became dense and hot. Naturally wanting to fix things (this sense overcoming its programmed fear), the mouse droid recognized the event as an explosion. It started up his wheeles, and quickly sped off toward the accident.

As Stanley became closer and closer to the accident, the smoke became thicker and thicker. Almost completely blocking out vision for a human, but the droid activated its radar systems, allowing it to see past the smoke. Then, at the end of the hallway, the droid came to the source of smoke.

There, lodged in the hallway, was the damaged remains of a TIE fighter. It poured out a constant stream of thick, black smoke, and Stanley heard the fire control blast doors close behind it (also used to keep the smoke out and to maintain a perssurized hallway incase of a hull breach). It made the droid a little uneasy, knowing that he didn't have an escape route. Though, he could always pop open a hatch in the wall after investigating the fighter.

As he examined the scene, he noticed the fighter had crashed deep enough in the hallway to keep the air from coming out. Though, the hull's metal was damaged, and the little mouse droid wasn't sure how long the weakened metal would last before the powerful vacuum of space took control! Stanely would have to get out of there quick! Or he would be sucked out into space!

With his audio speakers blaring his mouse-like squeals, he rushed over to the walls of the hallway, and requested that the main computer open up a hatch.

Stanley cursed if droids could do so. He would have to find some other escape route!

Rolling around in circles, his small processor was working hard to figure out an alternative that wouldn't breach the hull. He couldn't lift the blast doors, that would breach the hull. He couldn't pry open the wall, that would too. He had literally brought himself into a trap! With no way out!

Suddenly, he heard the smoldering TIE fighter get moved slightly. He looked over to see it jerk again, and to his dismay, it was being pulled into space via the differences in vacuum. As soon as he thought it, the entire TIE was crushed by the sudden pull, and before he knew it, Stanlet had been pulled outside of the ship, and into the silent, depths of space.

He tried to squeal, but he couldn't. Space didn't carry any noise. Being spun around (quite rapidly in fact), he caught quick glimpses of the space battle. TIEs vs TIEs. Chasing each other, spitting out missiles, and spraying green blasts of epic magnitude. It was truly phenomenal, to see something like this. Though, Stanley was in deep bantha dung. There was no way he would be rescued (or even remembered), and he would continue on his unaltered path through the system of Vectra. Most likely falling into the gas giant Tague, or being pulled into an elliptical orbit around the sun. His battery would eventually die, and he would become part of the various peices of space junk in the galaxy.

It was curiosity that killed the cat mouse...droid....

OOC:

Word CountL 952. I'm not impressed at all with this post, and I think it is the worst out of all of my Out of the Invisible posts. Though, Trykon did think the idea was funny, and I hope yall will too, but don't take it seriously. I wasn't able to think of a good plot for Stanley the Mouse Droid, but I wanted to do a post about him! So I did it anyway. And Drac, you don't have to count this post towards my total at all. It is a peice of...bantha dung.

[This message has been edited by Echelon
(edited March 7, 2012
7:11:37 PM)]
[This message has been edited by Echelon
(edited March 8, 2012
7:26:25 PM)]

ScralComNet Novice

[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class (PO2)

Post Number: 55
Total Posts: 71
Joined: Jun 2009
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 8, 2012
1:36:48 AM

Being in the cockpit again felt right to him, however playing wingman to an obviously drunk executive officer was not something he enjoyed in the slightest. The man's flying abilities were subpar, it was almost like he was fresh out of the Academy. That may be just the alcohol flying for him though. He told himself after a moment. The lazy maneuvers he was using would embarrass any fresh faced cadet, not to mention the enemy squadrons that were quickly crowding Scral's sky.

[[Tuk 6, to Tuk lead. Request permission to break off and fly solo, I don't know if you know this but your XO is flying drunk.]] Scral said into the encrypted frequency the squadron used.

Dropping down below the other Interceptor he squeezed off a few bursts at a passing bomber. Swearing to himself he veered sharply to starboard to avoid the drunk as he nearly took off part of his port wing. He eased back on the throttle to give himself more space between the man and his own Interceptor, he may have a reputation for insane things but he did not want to try flying with only part of his fighter.

[[Tuk 6, request denied. Stick with the XO no matter what.]] The now very annoying voice of the squadron commander said nearly three minutes later.

[[Are you fraking kidding me, the man is a dange...]] His voice was cut off as his commlink was overruled by someone else. Diving his fighter away from the now random flying of the executive officer, he tried to switch frequencies but noticed the comm system was not working correctly.

[[Tuk 6, patience. Our time will come.]] The old familiar voice of Maroy said gently. After a moment he glanced at the communications screen and noticed everything was back to normal.

Sighing to himself since no one would see him inside the cockpit, he followed the man through a very lazy turn. Shaking his head he had to lower his speed just to stay behind the almost asleep pilot, glancing down he watched as two bombers got behind them. Adding just a bit more speed he noticed they were staying far enough back to not be an annoyance, but close enough for him to only have a few seconds warning if he needed to go evasive.

[[Tuk 5, two on our six.]] Scral said into the commlink, not really expecting a reply.

Following the man through another even lazier roll and turn if that was possible he watched in slight anticipation as they settled in behind three bombers who were lining up for an attack run on a ship he did not immediately recognize. Shunting power into his rear shields just in case the bombers following them decided to get playful he settled in behind one of the other ships and laced his shields with laser energy for a few seconds before following his wingman that had settled on one of the other bombers.

"I just wish this moron would fly into an asteroid or something." Scral said to himself after he had made sure his commlink was turned off.

[[Tuk 6, fighters headed your way. Better pick up some speed or you will be a sitting mynock, ETA two minutes.]] Maroy said from somewhere behind him he guessed. Glancing at one of his screens he saw the two fighters moving towards them, apparently word had gotten out about two inept pilots who were easy pickings.

"I've had just about enough of this stupidity." Scral said as he did a simple flip and eased his fighter starboard of his wingman's. Lining up on one of the bombers, he keyed over for burst fire and squeezed the trigger lightly. crimson laser bolts flashed across the ship's shields for a moment before they punched through, a second later the ship shuddered once before exploding in a slowly expanding gas cloud.

Twisting his rudder controls he eased more starboard as he lined up on another of the bombers, squeezing the trigger he glanced down at his screen to note the position of the fighters. Looking up again he caught sight of the starboard strut of his executive officer drop down directly in front of his laser bursts.

Swearing loudly he released the trigger as he chopped the throttle back, he knew several of his shots had penetrated the shields. Surveying the damage he grimaced as he watched the starboard strut begin to break off. A moment later the Interceptor began a lazy spin starboard.

[[Why am I scpinning?]] A slightly slurred voice came over the commlink. Scral watched in morbid interest as the Interceptor spun into one of the bombers, the resulting explosion temporarily blinded him as he pulled back on the stick to escape the debris field.

[[Tuk 5 is down.]] Scral reported as he flipped his Interceptor up and over, punching the throttle he shunting power into his forward shields as he raced towards the fighters coming towards him. [[Before anyone asks, that was not my fault.]]

OOC:

WC-841. The Drunk of an XO decided to end his life by dropping down into my laser blasts. Two bombers down, and the SC no doubt hates me now.

FM|PO2 Trimik "Scral" Dyr'Jin|B-2|26th Vast Imp. Fighter Squadron "Tuk'ata" |W:58 "Javelin"|mSSD Atrus|TF:A|1FL|SFC|VEN|VE [MC1] [MC2] {=A=} (=^TG^=)"When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return."

EchelonComNet Member

[VE-NAVY] Chief Petty Officer (CPO)

Post Number: 309
Total Posts: 545
Joined: May 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 8, 2012
6:16:51 PM

Elden Standerson was a simple man, if not, a bland one. He lived an average lifestyle at his civilian home on Abrae, and he had a simple job of manufacturing datapads. Nothing exciting happened, nothing different happened, and everything was normal, unexciting, and simple. That was until the Imperial Dominion showed up...

Grabbing his coat, he proceeded out of the datapad factory, on a pedestrian course towards his airspeeder. As he arrived, he flipped open the door, throwing his bag in the passenger seat, and seated himself behind the yoke, feeling the smooth leather seat under him. Staring up the engines, the speeder came to life, and it hovered for a moment before slowly accelerating at a smooth accent into the air. Elden entered one of the traffic routes, and sped with the various air vehicles around him, before branching off, and decending towards a small, squarelike skyscraper. He slowed the ship down and lanned at his parking spot, hopping out as soon as he did.

On his few steps toward the turbolift, he thought that this was the most average and regular day someone could ask for. Soon, he would find out how wrong he was.

As the turbolift slowed down, the doors slid open revealing the plain apartment in which he lived. He threw his bag on the couch, and proceeded toward fridge ahead of him. He grabbed a glass of water and sat himself down in an arm chair, clearly exausted from the days work. He grabbed a remote, and flipped his entertainment console on. A low budget situation comedy show appeared on the screen. Sipping at the water, he realized how dumb the jokes were. Suddenly, the screen became static for a moment, before a news cast came on. It showed a human woman, formally dressed up for the screen, and under her in clear words were: "Emergency News Cast."

Interested in what the woman was going to say, he turned the sound up, and the womans voice was soon echoing around the room, and other rooms in households all across Abrae and the Vectra system.

"I'm Trish Akapoint, and this is Vectra Daily News with an important announcement," she began, "Imperial Dominion ships, enemies with the Vast Empire, have entered the system and are engaging with Vast Empire forces."

Elden's heart skipped a beat.

"The Imperial Dominion is dangerous, and they are clearly outnumbering the Vast Empire ships. We go aboard the mSSD Atrus with reporter Sal Anowa."

The screen changed to a reported standing beside an Imperial officer. Behind them were various control stations and other officers operating at a rapid pace.

"Thanks Trish. I'm here on the Atrus's Defense Station, and with me is Chief Finbar "Echelon" Bandoran, a Damage Control Officer aboard the ship," the reported stated into his handheld microphone. "Tell me, Chief, what can you tell us about this battle."

"Well," the unfamiliar Echelon started, "I can't say to much because we wouldn't want to give the Dominion important information, but I can tell you that they are a dangerous foe, and we're working hard to stop them."

"Now Chief, the Atrus is the only major ship in the system, how are you going to handle?"

The Damage Control Officer smiled. "Well, Sal, we are a Super Star Destroyer. And we are a very powerful ship." Though, his statements were not reassuring to anyone.

"Before we go, can you tell folks what you do as a Damage Control Officer."

"Well, I try to control the damage. That means sending repair convoys, and analyzing further defensive measures we can take. If this ship goes down, and the system is take by the Dominion, you can blame me..." He stopped, realizing that it might be bad to say that infront of the entire system. Echelon could almost picture hordes of angry Vectrians at his home on Tatooine. It wasn't pretty.

"Back to you Trish."

Elden, taking in the information that was just thrown at him, was a little uneasy about all of this. He had heard of major battles, and military conflicts, but now the war had come to his system. And he could be a target. For the first time ever, he contemplated the fact that he might die soon. If the Dominion beat the one ship in the system (which seemed likely to him), what was to stop them from bombing the hell out of Abrae! They would definetly bring the conflict down to his moon to stop the Vast Empire ground forces!

"Oh galaxy!" he yelled, sitting up straight in his arm chair, "I've got to get the frak out of here!"

He rushed into his home, grabbing anything valuble or that meant something to him, and stuffed it in his bag. He quickly put on his coat, and rushed out the door, walking down the hall towards the turbolift.

Exitting the building, he noted that everyone else was frantic about getting out of the system. Men shoved bulky bags into shuttles, while woman and children piled into them. He rushed out onto his platform and placed his bag gently into his speeder. Hoping in, he engaged the throttle, and began to travel full speed (or to him it seemed a bit more) towards the spaceport. The sky was busy with traffic. Speeders going everywhich way, going to see family members, going to the spaceport, or simply returning home, only to see the news a moment later. People were ignoring the designated skylanes, and the sky was a disorderly mess of traffic. The moon, or the entire system for that matter, was in chaos.

Gunning his speeder toward the spaceport, Elden arrived a moment later, only to find all the parking space full, and the area extremely crowded. Voices were shouting, people were shoving, and the area was a beehive full of activity.

Where the hell am I going to park?"

Just then, a speeder below him rose up, leaving a parking spot open! But two other ships had that spot in mind! He would have to get there quick!

He engaged the throttle to full, and dived at a complete right angle. He felt the forces of inertial, gravity, and speed all tug on him. At the altitude of the parking area, he level out with it. His front end was fine with the sudden turn, but his back smashed into another landspeeder. The forces made his ship roll in the air and flip. Trying desperately to regain control, he viciously tugged and pulled on his yoke, but it was no use. His speeder hit another of its kind, and smahed into the ground, setting his engines on fire.

Barely conscious from the accident, he lifted his arm, but couldn't. The large metal bars of the craft were crushed, and he was in the middle of it. He could smell smoke now. The fire was larger.

A moment later, he snapped back into reality and began to notice the predicament he was in. He was unable to move any of his body parts. The entire frame of the speeder was close in on him, and he was trapped! He looked forward to see the fire spreading, and he became sweaty not only from the fire, but fear. He was going to be burned to death, and it was all because he had been in a hurry to escape the possibly imminent death. It had been his hastiness that killed him. Not the Imperial Dominion.

Slowly the fire spread, and the pain began to swell, but nobody noticed his unfortunate and painful demise. They were too busy saving themselves.

It was sad. The haste. The selfishness. It honestly shows human nature when death is waiting around the other corner...

OOC:

Word Count: 1,290. Another NPC post. This one about a civilian. I owe it to Drac, for it was his idea. This is also the longest post I've made in the story.

[This message has been edited by Echelon
(edited March 8, 2012
6:20:38 PM)]

EllesmereComNet Cadet

[VE-NAVY] Petty Officer 2nd Class (PO2)

Post Number: 261
Total Posts: 311
Joined: Mar 2011
Status: Offline

RE: VEN: Out of the Invisible

March 8, 2012
7:14:40 PM

As Michele listened to her CO, she silently thought of how much of a mistake she had made by judging him the way she had. Sure, rumors were rumors and sure they could be true – if not all of them then some of them at least but he was an individual all the same. He made mistakes just like she did, and like herself he had been following orders, or at least taking the course of action which seemed best suited for the situation. As the meeting progressed, she relaxed a little and found she was starting to feel a little more comfortable in her new shoes on the Surprise. As she rattled off the information about the Surprise which was ingrained in her mind, she could see her Commanding Officer was quite briefly surprised, but also pleased. She found herself quite frustrated however when she could only give basic information about the ship and was unable to elaborate too much on its specifications.

After her dismissal, she started to make her way back to the bridge; her first time there since she got on the ship. Things will start up soon, and it’s coming up fast I just know it… As she thought of the imminent battle ahead, she couldn’t help but think back to her brief time in a squadron. Sitting in that TIE, leading a flight of young, sometimes trigger-happy pilots into battle and being on the front lines… She was again on the front lines of battle in some way, but this time her role was different; reversed really. She was now going to be taking on a much bigger leadership role along with Trykon, who would be guiding her and hopefully molding her into someone with much higher confidence in herself than she currently had.

Her thoughts were interrupted by klaxons blaring, along with the ambient light dimming, people shouting and running all over the place to their respective stations. Grabbing her datapad and comlink, she quickly and efficiently informed Trykon of the developments as they were communicated to her both by word of mouth and through information that had been immediately sent to her datapad. After ending her transmission, Michele quickened her step and soon enough found herself jogging towards the bridge.

As the doors hissed open and she stepped onto the command deck, she saw a few sets of eyes turn towards her, probably expecting Commander Trykon.

“Status report” she ordered swiftly, as she kept up a steady stride towards a central position overlooking the entire bridge.

“Ma’am, we’re just about ready to get rolling. We’re ready to jump whenever the word is given” Lerak, the helmsman announced.

Flight Control Officer James D. Carter sat casually in his firm chair, sipping tentaively at his coffee. His Imperial cap was stuck firmly on his head, and his unifrom wrinkled up as he slouched where he sat. His coffee, which had been freshly brewed deep and strong for his liking, refreshed the otherwise dull room with an aroma of pleasant smells. In front of him was his control station, a switchboard full of buttons, levers, dials, and a microphone. Nearly half of these he never used, but they were there if he ever needed them. Plus, they made the station look cooler, or so he thought.

Seated in the control room high above the dockingbay, he overlooked several hangars in which spacecraft were kept and launched. The dockingbay was a large square like alcove dug into the bottom of the ship. Along the walls of this alcove were the smaller hangars, and at the bottom of this area was a large gap where craft exited the ship. These dockingbays were spread throughout the bottom of the Atrus, but the main one (the largest too) was located in the center. Carter's was a small obscure one, located at the front of the ship. Lucky for him, it was a calm and nonbusy bay, and it usually handled a specific TIE Wing. Though, he occasionally handled supply shuttles (which could keep him busy), the dockingbay was usually calm.

Beside him sat Cornellius Avalve, his assistant Flight Control Officer. He was a balding man, though he was young. Some how, Avalve had managed to hold onto a small beard, which was the most distintive feature for the man. The assistant stretched his arms out, clearly bored by the lack of activity. Though, working in a calm dockingbay had its rewards, it also had its downfalls. Boredom was one of them.

"You watch the news last night?" Avalve said to his partner, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, why?" Carter replied, sipping once again at his dark coffee.

"Eh. I thought it was interesting that they put the 'Military Conflict Warning' at 4."

Carter nodded. "I thought that was funny as well. I mean, after the recent battle at Belga-" His sentence was interrupted was a sudden beeping at his console. Leaning over, he pressed a button.

"This is DB TT-44 to incoming Operius shuttle," he stated calmly into the microphone.

A moment later, the crackley voice of the pilot replied through the radio. "Operius shuttle, to TT-44. Requesting clearance into dockingbay."

"Do you have a code clearance?"

"Yes, sending it right away."

A moment later, the code appeared on Avalve's console, and he briefly ran the check before saying, "Sir, its an older code, but it checks out fine."

Once again pressing the button, Cater stated into the microphone, "TT-44 to shuttle. You are cleared for entry into the dockingbay. Which hangar are you proceeding to?"

"Hangar 22," the voice on the other end replied, almost in a jocking manner.

With that final statement, Carter closed the transmition, turning in his chair, and taking a sip at his coffee.

"Anyway," he continued, "As I was saying. You wouldn't think tha-"

Once again he was interrupted. This time, by something a bit more serious. Suddenly, lights began to flash, sirens began to blare, and the unmistakable voice of the captain's translator droid was heard over the intercom.

"All crewmembers to your battlestations!" the voice said, "We're under attack by Imperial Dominion forces. This is not a drill!"

Instinctively, Carter and Avalve began preparing for the sudden rush of outgoing TIEs that would need to be deployed. A second later, their squadron leaders were on the line.

"You're clear to depart Raidleer squad," said Carter, whilst Avalve cleared another squad. Out their viewport, several TIE fighters slowly moved out of the hangars before darting downward, exiting the ship. As soon as all of the TIEs were launched, Carter flipped a switch and turned a dial. Out the thick pane of glass, a large tube was extending from the wall. At the end, was a collection of metal frame work and bars. This interesting mechanism would allow the TIE fighters to fly into the contraption allowing themselves to be refueled. With the flip of a switch Avalve would be able to fuel each TIE to the brim whilst Carter ushered them into the dockingbay.

"You ready for the battle?" Carter asked, smiling at his underling.

Avalve jokingly replied back, "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Well, that's good. You were at Belgaroth, right?"

"Hell I was! Man, we got those TIEs out of here in a heartbeat! I wasn't sure how we did it!"

Carter laughed. "Well, the second fleet was in our-"

Carter, who seemed to have a curse for being interrupted, stopped in mid-sentence at the sight of something out the viewport. There, a TIE Interceptor, entered the dockingbay. Its wings looked a bit scorched at nimbled at, and it flew very erratically. The bottom of the vessel was smoldering, and it seemed to have a course towards one of the hangars.

The voice that replied was not only crackly, but sounded like he was having a rough time controling the TIE. "Just...got...clipped...by a bolt...any hangar...will do..." he said, desperately trying to fly his damaged TIE. Though, as the fighter made its way toward the hangar, its sudden movement got move a more sporatic. There was nothing the two controllers could do.

"Frak! I can't watch! I don't think he's going to make it!" Avalve blurted out, turning his gaze from the event in front of him.

Come on Beta 5! Come on! Make it!

But he never did.

Only a few tens of meters away from the hanagr, the smoking part of the ship flashed, and instead of being pulled out towards the hangar entrance, the ship veered downward. Carter cringed when he saw it smash into the side of the wall, sending up a small plume of smoke, and covering the metal wall in ash and debris.

Returning his gaze, Avalve happily burst out, "I don't see him! Did he make it to the hangar?"

But the expression on Carter's face said it all. The two sat there for a few moments in the solemn silence. Thinking about Beta 5. Thinking about what just happened. Thinking about the death.

Then Avalve, who had been staring dreadidly at the floor, quietly asked, "Are you ready for this battle?"

Carter looked up, and repeating the words his friend had said before, "As ready as I'll ever be."

OOC:

Word Count: 1,118. A short little post about some flight control officers doing their jobs, and watching the a sad event unfold in front of them.

From the second that Drac had contacted him, Pherik had been busy. Taking charge of the situation exactly as the Captain would expect of him, Serpent had issued orders with rapid confidence, clear and firm, quick yet not rushed. He had spent so long mastering the role of XO of the Halcyon Warrior, and he knew that whatever was coming next would put his skills to the ultimate test.

“Three hours to departure, people!” He barked. “Navigation, I want the jump to the rendezvous point plotted and relayed to our escorts. Communications, make sure that those details are triple encrypted, no one is to know what we are doing. Then initiate coms silence!”

“Yes, sir!” Responded the men at the appropriate workstations, their answers as crisp as his commands.

Turning to a junior bridge officer, Zail asked, “Do we have any crew off the ship at the moment?”

“The last shuttle is returning now, sir,” Said the Senior Crewman.

“Excellent,” Said the First Officer. “Now, I want status and readiness reports from every department ASAP,” He ordered. “Whatever problems they have, whatever supplies they are wanting, they have just under three hours to get it all sorted. Tell them that any department head not at full readiness by the time the Captain barks ‘jump’ will answer to me personally! Is that clear?”

The bridge officer nodded, fear in his eyes. “Yes, sir!” He babbled.

“Go, tell them in person,” Ordered Zail, mentally adding, and put that fear I see in your eyes into them too!

Precisely two hours and fifty nine minutes later, Serpent stood at the side of his Mon Calamari CO. Drac was standing firm and proud at the front of the bridge, not showing a hint of fear or apprehension, a pillar of strength for the entire crew. Zail was happy to have found such an impressive officer for a Captain, and for a mentor, and it was with the pride of prized student that he answered when Mihawk spoke.

“Is the ship ready, Mr Zail?” Asked the CO.

“All departments are one hundred percent ready, sir!” Answered Serpent, fighting to keep the delighted smile off his face.

“In that case, jump!”

And they did.

-----

The Vast Empire force hung in the dark of space. Each warship primed and ready to strike at a moment’s notice, their crews anxious and tense. On the bridge of the Halcyon Warrior that tension hung in the air like a thick smoke, choking the bridge crew. Serpent felt like he was going mad from waiting. Any minute now, the Imperial Dominion would strike and the largest battle of his career would begin. It was maddening.

And yet Drac just stands there admiring the view calmly, he observed of his Captain. I only prey that I will have that much control when the day comes for me to command a ship like this.

And then suddenly the wait was over. The Reconnaissance and Surveillance officer spoke up, getting the Captain’s attention immediately. Zail was hot on Drac’s heels in coming to the Warrant Officer’s side, eager to see the data on the enemy vessels.

As data spilled across the bridge officer’s screen, all eyes were drawn to the dimensions of one Imperial Dominion ship in particular. The non-com at the Reconnaissance and Surveillance station did not recognise the ship, and neither did Serpent.

“An Allegiance-Class Super Star Destroyer,” Said the Captain, as Zail marvelled at the warship’s data. Not as big as the Atrus, he noted, but still larger than their own Halcyon Warrior.

And just a few hours ago I was irked that this ship would be the second-largest in the coming fight, thought Serpent, and now we are downgraded yet further to third!

Captain Mihawk was now bellowing orders to the bridge crew, including asking for the XO to tag all the enemy ships and find all data on the Allegiance-Class vessels. And then came the words that Serpent had been fearing for the last day or so.

“... find that new Intelligence liaison and ask him why in the name of the Sith did VENI not know about this ahead of time,” Bellowed the Mon Cal CO, in reference to the presence of a Super Star Destroyer.

Serpent waited until the rest of the bridge crew were fully engrossed in their tasks and busy, and then approached the Captain boldly. “Sir, the VENI Liaison is here,” He announced.

Drac glanced about the bridge, irritated. “Well then tell him to step forward, Mr Zail!”

“I am stepped forward, sir,” Said Serpent with a wince.

The Captain glared at him with his giant fish-like eyes. “You, Pherik, are VENI’s new representative?” He asked slowly, softly, almost like it was an accusation.

Zail nodded in confirmation. He could not quite believe the order himself when it had come down from Captain Grey, the secretive Chief of Naval Intelligence, but Serpent had never refused an order no matter how awkward. “I got confirmation this morning, sir,” He explained. “I would have told you sooner but with everything going on...” He trailed off, unsure how to continue. Was Drac angry with him? He honestly did not know, he was not used to reading the faces of aliens.

“So you are with VENI,” Said Drac, almost to himself. It was not a question.

“Just a few assignments here and there, sir,” Said Zail, almost apologetically. “You guessed from my prolonged leaves of absence?”

The Captain nodded. “Captain Grey crafts his cover stories well, and goes through the correct channels, but I suspected.”

“That was the previous Grey, sir,” Said Serpent. He knew that the secret of that Chief’s identity was out, that it was Captain Trykon, and there were all sorts of rumours flying about as to how Drac felt about the actions taken by VENI under the Kuati’s command. “I know you felt like Captain Trykon deceived you...”

“Don’t defend him!” Snapped Mihawk. Then he glanced around, to check that the bridge crew were still too busy to notice the increasingly tense discussion. More quietly he asked, “Tell me, did you know who he really was?”

Serpent shook his head. “Never, sir. Even when I served under him on the Surprise I had no idea.”

“Would you have told me if you’d known?” Asked Drac.

Zail was quiet for a moment. “No, sir,” He answered.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Drac’s lips. “At least you are honest, Pherik.”

“Captain, please believe me, there is a new Grey, and he is different! He won’t sacrifice your people like the last one did,” He said, wanting Drac to believe him.

“And do you know who this one is?” Asked the Mon Calamari.

Serpent shook his head.

“Then how can you be so sure?” Came the inevitable next question.

Zail hung his head in defeat. “I don’t know what to say, sir. I have two duties now, one to you and one to Grey. As VENI liaison I hope to bring them both together.” He lifted his eyes to his Captain. “I don’t want to fail you sir,” He said earnestly.

“And you haven’t yet, Pherik,” Said the other. “Now, go speak to VENI and see if you can find anything on this SSD.”

“Right away, sir!” Said Zail, glad of the dismissal.

As he hurried off, Serpent analysed that conversation in his mind over and over again. Had it gone well, he wondered, or had his relationship with Captain Mihawk been forever tainted?

Only time would tell, he supposed.

OOC:

1256 words. Largely a retelling of recent events from Serpent’s perspective, though I have moved events on a bit. Drac is having issues with VENI right now, and alas my character is getting a bit caught up in it. Serpent is a nice guy, though, really!

AAR: Serpent is getting his act together as XO, and readies the Halcyon Warrior for departure. He then witnesses the report on the arrival of the Imperial Dominion fleet at Vectra, and is shocked by the presence of an Allegiance-Class Super Star Destroyer. When Drac demands to speak to Fleet Intel Liaison, Serpent says that he is it. They have not the time to dwell on it, but Zail suspects that the relationship with his CO has now become a lot more complicated.

Both the ship's alarm klaxons and Qorbin's personal datapad began blaring, respectively beeping, at about the same time. Despite the rather loud and frustrating auditory stimuli however Seth Qorbin didn't budge a single muscle. Not straight away at any rate. Unlike most crewmen he was expecting these sounds. Unlike most crewmen he even knew what was happening outside, in the vast darkness of space surrounding Abrae. Unlike most crewmen he also knew what would occur next. Whole squadrons of fighters and bombers launching from either side, rushing towards one another with but one goal in mind - destruction. Chaos would soon enough set in, followed by despair, regret, anguish, frustration, anger, surrender and finally death.

Round and round and round we go, the Onderonian male finally opened his eyes and lazily got up, his mind still pausing to consider Belgaroth and all the previous conflicts before it. Each was unique in its own way yet each had so many similarities at the same time. Similar enemies. Similar fighters. Similar skirmishes. Similar casualties and despite overwhelming odds at times... similar outcomes as well. Indeed the Vast Empire had managed to win most of its battles thus far but at what cost? How many ships had it lost? How many promising pilots, crewmen and officers sacrificed their lives for "the Imperial cause"? And what was the point of it all anyway? Holding unto a slice of space so that other factions would not get a chance to profit from it?

With each new conflict Seth grew more tired of it all. Each time he watched as history continued repeating itself again and again, each time knowing full well there was bound to be another time after that and yet another after that. The only things that had ever kept the blond male around were also starting to lose their appeal. Qorbin's mind raced to the time when he joined the VE - all he wanted to do was better learn how to fly, get better acquainted with military tactics and thinking process and also make a couple of contacts here and there from which he could get certain things and to whom he may pass along other things.

A smile crept on Qorbin's face as he realized that those initial goals had long since been achieved - some with a tad more difficulty than others, but all of them achieved nonetheless. Over time however he grew to seek something else as well, something bigger, more ambitious and at the same time more dangerous as well. The man's constant planning and scheming however were close to produce the first results as far as that goal was also concerned. He just needed a little more time and the right opportunity to make it all happen...

Sometime soon no doubt, the Wing Commander thought as he picked up his helmet and headed for the door. Unlike the millions of sentient beings currently found in the Vectra System, Seth was only mildly interested in the coming battle. He fully planned to give it his all as he always had, but his mind however was not completely immersed in this matter alone.

"All squadrons rush to the hangar ASAP. This is not a drill. We're facing heavy Imperial Dominion forces so check your targets first. Bha'lir and Tuk'ata you are to launch immediately upon squadron readiness. Remaining squadrons are to hold until further orders", the Commander recorded a message and sent it to all Javelin squadron commanders. The man himself was almost at his wing's appointed hangar and it would only be a matter of time before he and his own squadron would launch and join the fray outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sayree Kazhos smiled - or rather grinned in a fairly creepy manner as soon as the alarms started. She was earlier briefed that something would happen later that day and that she should be ready for it. Qorbin didn't say more but the simple fact he said even this much was enough for the Zygerrian to figure out it likely involved her getting in a fighter and shooting things down. It was not the only possibility of course but it was however the most probable one.

Only a few seconds passed before her comm beeped and she received Qorbin's instructions. The news made her feel even better. She knew close to nothing about the Dominion but the "Imperial" bit in the faction's name implied they would likely fly similar crafts. That in turn equaled to a challenge as far as the woman was concerned and she just could not possibly back down from such a thing.

She would continue scaring and mentally scarring her pilots later when it would all be over. That is assuming any of them would survive. As far as she could tell by just watching them... well there was a good chance, a very good chance in fact, that many of them wouldn't make it out alive. That would suck for Dunny when he'd eventually return to retake command of his recently given - and almost just as recently taken away - squadron. On the plus side the survivors would likely prove themselves as able pilots. That was always a good thing...

The Near Human specimen turned to leave the room but suddenly hesitated for the briefest moment whilst she realized DeepSix's devious plan he cooked up for her and Tuk'ata. The sly Onderonian requested that she not antagonize anyone and on the contrary try and make friends with her new pilots. Of course she agreed to this and then decided to do the exact opposite if only to just spite the son of a schutta.

What if the sneaky human predicted as much though? What if he did it precisely so he could have her at odds with her own squadron? What would he have to gain then though? She'd end up facing a subtle friendly opposition on top of a very hostile enemy opposition which would make her want to kill everyone all the more - something that may end up leading to an increase in personal performance... Okay so this course of action would make her more lethal granted but what of the squadron? They'd be disheartened and their morale would most definitely take a hit because of it... but then again she would be perceived as a common foe and that would end up leading to increased teamwork, team adhesion and cooperation efforts.

He couldn't have known all this... could he? the alien female questioned her findings as she resumed her quickened pace, every now and then pondering on whether or not it may have been possible for Qorbin to have seen this far into the future and to have manipulated enough elements to make such an outcome possible. Well if it was true then she'd end up respecting the man more than before. She'd also end up hating him even more than before as there were few things she hated more than being used.

Safely strapped inside her Interceptor the Squadron Commander ordered the rest of Tuk'ata to launch, herself leading the eager pilots into a fight many of them would likely never forget anytime soon. It took a while for the fighters from both factions to get within weapon range but when they did missiles and bolts were freely exchanged, many of them hitting their intended targets and causing them to blow up in a brief flash of light and smoke before other intact vessels passed through the debris fields to repeat the same actions.

The Zygerrian was pleased. There were plenty of enemies for her to kill and chances were she may be lucky enough to find some capable foes as well. There were also bound to be enough casualties as well, something that surprisingly enough also pleased her as the alien female figured the remaining forces would be able to fare a lot better without being dragged down by the inept and incompetent in their ranks.

Sayree smiled as she decided to let herself go wild and just fly the tide of battle, doing as much possible damage as she could. This was the way of her species, who valued strength and an ambiguous notion of honor above all else. Needless to say this was also her way, and this is how she intended to fight, not by Imperial standards and regulations but by her own gut feeling and skill.

Seeing an opportunity the woman broke left and began firing rapid bursts at an already engaged fighter. The target's shields gave way but it was another allied fighter that stole the kill shot. An angry roar echoed in the small cockpit as the Near Human female tried venting her frustration. She managed to get a steady lock on another fighter and as soon as the instruments began beeping in acknowledgement she allowed a missile to leave her vessel, fly through the no longer empty space and squarely hit the unfortunate Dominion target, causing the latter to disappear in yet another flash of light and gas emissions.

No sooner had the previous target been disposed of that the Squadron Commander was already seeking new prey. She didn't have to search long as a lone Interceptor buzzed across her viewport, catching her attention. An inversed Immelman followed by a sharp turn were enough to bring the alien back to facing the earlier target. She steadied her craft, took aim and unleashed two quad-linked salvos in quick succession. Only two bolts hit during the first one but the three others that connected moments later proved fatal to the unlucky enemy pilot.

"Tuk 5 is down", someone - possibly Scral - reported eventually. As if she cared about such petty things. If the man fell then he was weak. If he was weak then he was not worthy of further thought. And what of Scral? She agreed to take the unstable pilot along for the ride because she saw something in him - skill, insanity and hesitation. The skill would've made him useful in the field. The hesitation would've ended his apparent torment. As for the insanity - that had the potential to help with either outcome... either turn the human male into a stronger killing machine or turn him back into tiny molecules and atoms. Sayree didn't care which, she just couldn't bare look at the uncertain mess the man was at this point. This was the reason she agreed to take him on and asked the WC to approve that the fellow return to active duty...

Yet what was this now? He was interrupting her fun for such inconsequential updates? She was not pleased. Not pleased at all... The Zygerrian chose to remain silent and instead spread that displeasure around by first taking out yet another Dominion bogey, this one a Bomber that was already pursued and shot at by two allied Interceptors. Seeing her rapid burst hitting the Bomber twice in the left wing and twice more in the small ship's underside made her feel better. Especially when the craft lost control and twisted awkwardly before blowing up, its explosion a tad larger than regular fighters. Ah yes, there were no problems a few skillful kills couldn't solve...

OOC:

WC: 1872AAR: A bit of insight as far as Qorbin is concerned. Also some teasers regarding his not so distant future.Only the 2 Interceptor squadrons have launched from Javelin wing. The other squadrons are still inside the ship's hangars for the time being. They'll come out to play soon enough however.Also a bit more description for the temp NPC leading Tuk'ata. Appearances can be deceiving you know...

Ryn looked out over the scene in front of her and paused. The off duty events back on the Atrus left her with a bad taste in her mouth. Fights, drinking, and all she wanted to do was get her ass back in a fighter and shoot things. Ryn got her wish.

The SSD loomed in the far distance, its presence more impressive somehow than even its impending firepower that she had no doubt would eventually enter the fray. Several ISD's were spewing bolts and fighters at the two squadrons as they waited for the other squadrons to launch from the massive hanger bays of the Atrus.

The squadron had broken off into groups of two. Ryn was flying with Ryuno at her wing, while Kazhos and Slammer engaged a wing on their own. Beta flight had already lost one man, leaving Scral to form up with Hades and Maroy. With the exception of the Commander, Alpha wing was the less experienced overall. Ryn had no doubt that the remainder of Beta would be just fine, as long as the whole of Tuk'ata wasn't overwhelmed.

“Tuk two, tighten up!”

Ryn recognized the voice of Tuk'ata one, The Zygerrian. Sayree Kazhos was a difficult woman to understand. She was battle hardened and distant. Her commands were final and she expected them to be followed. Ryn knew the necessity of this attitude during a war, but she could only hope that she herself would retain more of her humanity should she survive as much.

Slammer gruffly responded between maneuvers. “I can't one, you are too close to the big guns, we are in firing range. Need to back off and regroup.”

Ryn blased through a TIE-interceptor that she had been tailing for several minutes with the assistance of Ryuno on a scissor maneuver.

“Nicely done four.”

Her eyes found Tuk'ata one and two. They were dangerously close to the farthest ISD on the field. This particular star destroyer seemed to be attempting a flanking maneuver, to effectively box in the squadrons from the Atrus. She could see what Slammer was talking about, at their current position they would not be able to evade both the three TIEs they were pursuing and the blasts from the ISD's guns.

“Four, lets try and get support for lead and two. They will need an exit strategy.”

“Negative Ryn, we have four on our six.”

Ryn jerked her head around as a reflex to see the set of four twin blades heading for their position.

The pilot cursed under her breath and gave the remainder of her flight one last long look. The two pilots were holding their own, but they needed to get out of the situation they drifted into. Ryn let her anger at her squadron commander for not being more aware of her surroundings bubble to the surface.

“Lead and two, you have a clear shot at your nine, it will take you out of the battle but you can get clear of that shitstorm and get back to us.” There was no reply from The Zygerrian, but Slammer clicked his comm in response. “Ryuno, you ready for a defensive manuver?”

“Aye, what did you have in mind.” Ryuno's voice was tense. Which didn't surprise Ryn, this was a large engagement for the young pilot. One which Ryn intended on making sure she returned home from.

“Barrell roll, lets try to get behind the fraker. Brake!”

Simultaneously they both pulled back on their yoke and went into a hard upward spiral. Ryn could feel the pressure hit her chest immediately as the g-forces slammed her against the seat, allowing her restraints to loosen just slightly. As they came out of the roll she settled back into the seat properly and got her barrings.

“Scissor now.” Ryn didn't have time to check her comm to see if Ryuno acknowledged or not, she pulled the yoke again firing at the one attacker she could see in her sights. As soon as her stressed mind allowed she glanced at her targeting computer to see Ryuno engaging two other targets that had been thrown off by their maneuver.

“You girls need some help?” Hades voice spoke with amusement as she watched the three familiar TIE interceptors shoot past her canopy.

“What and interrupt your caf break? I know how you get without your caf Hades, even the enemy doesn't deserve that.” Ryn was thrilled to see him even if her voice was muffled by her clenched teeth.

The TIE in front of her blasted into a million small pieces that rattled across her viewscreen as she flew through the debris. She smiled at Hades' yell of victory. “Okay mind helping my wingmate back there?”

“Already on it, three.” Scral's voice came through the comm.

Checking the targeting computer she could see the two friendly indicators form up behind the remaining two enemy ones.

Hades clicked in on her private comm. “Any word from one or two?”

“No, I've been too busy to check in on them.”

“Aye, we have at least another dozen fresh bogeys on the screen. We need them in the fight not dancing with an ISD right now.” His voice held the same frustration she was feeling. They were about to lose two good pilots due to a rookie tactical error.

Ryuno formed up on her wing. “Clear three.”

“For now.” Ryn replied.

Kazhos appeared flying towards them with no less than six TIE pursuers. She had gotten free from the fray but appeared to be alone in that.

“One what's two's twenty?”

The reply came after several grunts and curses. “Evac'ed out, he took a shot to the wing. Lucky bastard will probably live as long as the crews can get to him.”

“Shit.” Ryn breathed the word. Now they were down two pilots with still a never-ending spread of enemies heading towards them. It was time to make sure Slammer was the last casualty in this battle, whether he was actually a KIA or not, he was out of the battle regardless.

“Ryuno, form up on me. The rest of you are with Hades. Lets see if we can get our commander some breathing room.”

OOC:

WC: 1035

AAR: The battle is overwhelming, we have already lost two pilots (our SXO and Slammer) and are still facing overwhelming odds. Currently we are working to take down the six or so TIEs pursuing The Zygerrian her careless tactics have gotten Slammer evac'ed and possibly killed. Once we finish them off we will break into two groups. The Zygerrian with Ryn and Ryuno as wingmates and Hades with Scral and Maroy as wingmates. I know that Hades is on leave so NPC him for now and if it looks like he may not return will will have him go evac and out of the battle as well.

Exquisite. There was no better word to describe the feeling that was overwhelming the Zygerrian woman. Evading laser bolts, pursuing enemy fighters, taking careful aim and snuffing out the lives of those piloting them... That was something most pilots were expected to deal with on a regular basis. The newly appointed Tuk'ata Commander however took things to a whole new level.

Where most military pilots fought for their governments and their ideals, the Near Human specimen fought for nothing save herself. Where most pilots cared for and enjoyed the company of others, Sayree relied only on herself. Where most pilots prioritized staying alive, the former slaver sought only to prove herself by dishing out as much damage as possible. The woman may have found herself serving the Vast Empire but she was not a soldier. No, she was something far different. Darker. Twisted. Dangerous. And not just to the enemy forces either...

"Lead, I have two on my tail. Requesting assistance", Slammer called out, his request however remaining unanswered. Kazhos was simply too busy lining up yet another perfect shot that would end up claiming one more Dominion pilot. She couldn't be bothered with the inexperienced pilot's troubles. If he was as good as his Academy record implied then he would be able to deal with the situation on his own. And if not then at least the Zygerrian would finally be able to enjoy some peace and quiet. Well maybe not the peace, the woman thought and smiled as she prepared to go after yet another bogey.

"Lead and two, you have a clear shot at your nine, it will take you out of the battle but you can get clear of that shitstorm and get back to us", Sayree recognized the sweaty pilot's voice. Recognized it and otherwise ignored it. Get out of the storm? What sort of nonsense was that anyway? Only cowards turned tail and ran at the first sign of trouble. She however was not a coward. Never had been and never intended to become one either...

Before being forced to join the Vast Empire the Zygerrian slaver had a fairly good reputation amongst her kin. She was known by both her allies and victims as Wildfire, both for her choice of a crimson dyed fighter and for her raw, ruthless nature - killing anything that showed even the slightest sign of resistance. Back in the Outer Rim, during the routine slave runs, her presence alone would sometimes be reason enough for the other side to peacefully surrender to their fate. Oh how the alien female missed having all that power. The respect. The fear and terror others associated her with...

"Lead this is Tuk 2. I'm pulling back, over!" For possibly the first time since she heard the man speak, Slammer's tone did not sound as calm and collected as usual. Disappointing but then again not all that surprising however. "Lead, this is 2. Taking fire... Trying to... Shields are down... Enga-", whatever he planned on saying next was cut short as an explosion lit the space somewhere to the alien commander's right. The woman did however notice a tiny blip going on and off, signalling the Vast Empire pilot was lucky - or unlucky - enough to escape with his life. Then again that was at this point just a temporary state.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Commander", Kolt Orzso's voice reached DeepSix and the latter realized the Elix Squadron Commander was speaking through a private comm channel. "How much longer, sir?" the man finished his question and patiently waited for an answer. An answer that wouldn't come straight away however as Seth was busy analyzing the situation outside.

"Their fighters have not fully engaged us yet. A couple more minutes should be enough I believe", Qorbin's reply probably did not make the other man feel better and this the Wing Commander understood all too well. With only a few exceptions he knew of, all the pilots he ordered to wait no doubt wanted nothing more but to get out there and join their colleagues and friends fight. It was what they were trained to do and it was what they wanted to do. Despite this however the blond Onderonian was holding them back in order to maximize their efficiency in the long run.

The pilots in question did not like this decision but they were however willing to obey it nevertheless. Partly because duty demanded they obey orders from superiors but partly because they trusted the man as well. His tactics may have occasionally seemed odd but nobody could really dispute the fact that Qorbin was almost always managing to get results. Positive results that is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let's see if we can get our commander some breathing room", Ryn announced, forcing the Zygerrian to laugh out loud. "Unnecessary, I can breathe", the alien paused to do a quick barrel roll followed by a break to the left and then a sudden half loop upwards, "...just fine. Can you say the same thing, pilot?" the Squadron Commander asked when she finally found a free moment that did not require any immediate evasive moves. The Near Human was referring to Ryn's appearance back in the barracks - sweaty and tired looking, her breathing unsteady and her muscles still occasionally twitching involuntarily.

Alone in the middle of a few enemy fighters and taking fire from an ISD's guns as well, MCPO Kazhos still managed to score another kill before turning around and bolting. There was a fine line between cowardice and plain stupidity, and whilst the woman did not particularly care whether she lived or died she still preferred to live all the same. Besides, things weren't all that bad. Now that she had a bunch of pursuers she no longer had to also watch for the ISD's canons. Not unless their gun crews would decide taking out a few of their own fighters would be a decent enough sacrifice if it meant taking her out as well.

Considering her plans to keep on killing their numbers if and when she'd lose her pursuers the Dominion would've been smart to seize that chance but of course that never came to be. They did not know her after all. Did not know what she could do. Even if they did their military rules and regulations still prevented them from such a simple course of action. That was their weakness however. Theirs and all other military organizations in general. Sayree knew that a good leader needed to be used to sacrifices. Needed to be able to make them swiftly, without any second thoughts or any regrets. Such a leader may not necessarily be liked by his own men but would however remain in that position longer because of it. This was one of the precious lessons she had learned in the Outer Rim - a slice of space where warfare was far less civilized but at the same time far more dangerous as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Elix Squadron you are go for launch. Regroup with Tuk'ata and Bha'lir and help them stay alive", Qorbin ordered and an eager "Roger that sir!" followed almost immediately afterward.

"Blackguard you may launch as well. Start by targeting weaker support ships - won't have as big an impact but will help demoralize the enemy nevertheless. Varactyl Squadron, clear a path for them and afterward keep them safe until further instructions."

"Yes sir" and "Aye, aye sir" were the replies that like before came almost immediately after the new orders were handed out.

"Razors you're on individual hunter killer assignments until ordered otherwise. Time to show the Dominion just how deep the tip of a spear can reach. Time to show them how Javelin Wing entertains uninvited guests."

Confirmations, laughter and war cries followed as the TIE Defenders darted out from the relative safety of the giant SSD and headed off toward the enemy fighters still engaged with the regular Interceptor forces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ryuno take the one on the farthest left", Ryn instructed the more inexperienced pilot who tapped the comm in acknowledgement and began firing short bursts at the target. Ryn followed her wingmate's example and began harassing the Interceptor closest to her. The Beta flight trio was attempting a similar job with some of the other Interceptors still intent on bringing down their Squadron Commander.

Despite her newly acquired underlings trying to save her ass all the Zygerrian could think of was Fools...She wasn't ungrateful Okay so maybe she was an ungrateful bitch but she simply could not comprehend why two thirds of her squad were wasting their time trying to pick her targets instead of finding their own. In this regard the woman's arrogance almost knew no bounds as she still believed she could shake off the half dozen pursuers. Interestingly enough that may have actually happened too.

May have happened being the keyword as Hades managed to get a solid lock and take out one of the Interceptors with a missile. Two other ones turned and engaged the Beta trio. The Zygerrian's shields just dropped below fifty percent when Ryn managed to finally take down the target she kept shooting at all that time. Given a little more time Ryuno would've likely accomplished the same thing if not for the two TIE Avengers that flew past them and took out the remaining two Interceptors on Sayree's six with a well placed missile and a couple of powerful quad-linked laser blasts.

As far as Beta flight was concerned, Hades and Scral found themselves playing bait for the couple of Dominion Interceptors they previously got off their leader's tail. Then there was also Maroy who was flying close behind them, trying to line the perfect shot to take them out. It was easier said than done though seeing how the enemies had the same crafts and more importantly a very similar training as well. They too knew all too well how to evade enemy fire - a fact that could've made the chase last a whole lot longer... if not for the lone Defender that came out of nowhere and fired an ion burst at one of them before disappearing back into the chaos it came from.

Maroy needed a moment to realize what happened but as soon as that moment was over she realized this was her chance. Linking her cannons together she fired a couple of salvos that effortlessly hit the immobile ship, turning it to space dust. Now that Hades was also pursuer free the two teamed up to take the heat off of Scral as well. Not that he seemed to need it but still...

OOC:

WC: 1775AAR: Tuk'ata SC further shows off her skills and daredevil attitude. Javelin's WC finally green lights the remaining four squadrons as well. Elix Squadron (TIE Avengers) are sent to cover Tuk'ata and Bha'lir (TIE Interceptors), Two of these make a cameo and take out a couple of bogeys. Blackguard Squadron (TIE Bombers) is ordered to target weaker support ships and Varactyl Squadron (TIE Avengers)is ordered to cover them whilst doing this.

Finally Qorbin orders his own Razor Squadron (TIE Defenders) to spread out and try control the battlefield by providing assistance where it is needed.

Ryn and Ryuno helped clear out their SC's bogeys and now all three are free. Hades scored a kill too, as did Maroy who took out a disabled enemy. The two of them are now teaming up to take out the one still following Scral. As for the NPC Gamma flight - they're ehm, still fighting around. If they're not mentioned by anyone that's what they're doing...